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A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


BY  GEORGE  F.  HARRINGTON. 


i  \.  t 


ill  i: 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS   BY  THOMAS    NAST. 


NEW    YOEK: 
UARPER    ifc    BROTHERS,   P  IJ  B  L  I     ^   E  R  S' 

F  B  A  N  K  L  I  N    S  Q  U  A  1?  K. 

18  66. 


> 


Just  Heady :  with  numei'ous  IIli(stmtio7is,  aiul  a  Ma^    hy 
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LIVINGSTONE'S     ZAMBESI. 

NARRATIVE  OF  AN  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  ZAMBESI  AND  ITS  TRIB- 
UTARIES; and  of  the  Discovery  of  Lakes  Shirwa  and  Nyassa.  1858-1864. 
By  David  and  Charles  Livingstone. 


From  the  Athenaum. 


"UHiilc  many  a  reader  in  happy  homes  has  been  penisinp;,  during  the  last  eipht  years,  the  nar- 
rative of  J)r.  Livingstone's  first  expedition,  that  enterprising  traveller,  in  the  interests  of  trade, 
science,  religion,  and  humanity,  has  been  engaged  in  penetrating,  tlirough  the  eastern  coast, 
into  unvisitcd  country.  lie  has  nobly  accomjilisihed  a  noble  work,  has  "run  home,"  as  he  calls 
it,  to  give  to  the  world  the  record  of  his  experiences,  and  has  started  again,  to  turn  those  ex- 
periences to  profitable  purposes  for  Africa  and  for  the  world.  There  have  not  been  many  voices 
from  beyond  the  waters,  not  many  echoes  from  afar,  that  have  been  more  welcome  to  us  than 
the  occasional  intelligence  which  we  received  of  the  progress  and  the  fortunes  of  the  African 
travellers.  That  intelligence  stimulated  a  curiosity  which  this  book  will  gratify.  It  comes  from 
the  hands  and  hearts  of  those  who  write  so  naturally  and  wisely,  that  the  apology  for  supposed 
lack  of  literary  abihty  seems  almost  an  aftectation  on  the  part  of  the  principal  author,  who,  to 
acutencss  of  observation,  added  nice  discernment  and  accurate  judgment ;  who  never  lost  hope, 
courage,  or  perseverance  ;  who,  having  a  work  to  do,.was  determined  to  go  through  with  it;  who 
puts  his  trust  in  God,  has  some  reliance  on  his  weapons,  some  well-founded  confidence  in  his 
common-sense,  and  who  learned  to  care  no  more  for  African  fevers  than  Lady  Sale  did  for 
earthquakes. 

Dr.  Livingstone  has  found,  according  to  this  interesting  volume,  a  wide  and  new  field  for  com- 
merce, emigration,  and  civilization. 

Ffom  the  Reader. 

Combine  Moffat  with  Mungo  Park,  and  the  result  would  resemble  David  Livingstone.  Th 
remarkable  man  has  spent  almost  the  whole  of  his  life  in  unknown  Africa.  He  resided  amoii 
the  Kathrs  for  many  years,  laboring  to  convert  them  to  the  Christian  faith.  He  made  no  le 
than  five  great  journeys,  each  of  sufficient  importance  to  have  gained  him  a  reputation. 

The  first  book  which  he  produced  was  immense.     Criticism  recoiled  awe-struck  before  it. 
contained  the  adventures,  the  experiences,  the  impressions  of  sixteen  years  in  Africa.     It  was  tl 
record  of  a  missionary's  life  on  the  frontier  of  white  men's  settlements ;  described  the  custon 
of  savage  tribes  previously  unknown  to  us  even  by  name;  and  added  peatly  to  our  geographic. 
knowl' uge  of  Central  Africa.     He  discovered  lakes  like  seas,  chains  of  mountains,  and  a  watei 
fall  which  is  larger  than  Niagara.     Such  a  book  as  this  could  be  compared  with  no  other  book  ,  , 
nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  written  before ;  it  was  an  encyclopedia  compiled  not  from  a  library, 
but  from  a  continent.  *  *  *  * 

The  expedition,  then,  has  enriched  us  with  valuable  collections,  obtained  during  six  years,  and 
from  regions  unexplored  before.     It  has  discovered  a  port  which  can  be  made  available  for  con) 
merce.     It  has  ascertained  the  exact  value  of  the  Zambesi  as  a  water-road.     It  has  brought  u 
also  valuable  information  respecting  the  natural  productions  of  the  soils  in  Eastern  Africa.     In- 
digo has  been  found  growing  wild  over  large  tracts  of  country,  and  often  attains  the  height  of  a 
man.     The  cotton  is  found  to  be  of  a  very  superior  quality.     Cotton  wool  sent  to  Manchest(y  was 
pronounced  to  be  twopence  per  pound  better  in  quality  than  common  New  Orleans.     The  plant 
also  appeai-s  to  be  peculiarly  vigorous  and  persistent  in  the  soil.     The  soils  are  also  favorable  to 
the  delicate  tobacco  ))lant,  to  the  custor-oil  plant,  and  to  the  sugar-cane. 
%    "  The  Zambesi  and  its  Tributaries"  is  a  work  which  every  one  should  read,  and  which  all  wh' 
have  libraries  should  buy. 

From  tJie  Examiner. 

\s  a  traveller  Dr.  Livingstone  is  unsurpassed,  and  after  another  six  years'  spell  of  work  that 

Id  have  killed  six  ordinary  men,  the  rejults  of  his  journcyings  arc  here  pithily  detailed  in  a 

ne  quite  as  valuable  and  "interesting  as  the  "Missionary  Travels"  of  1857.  *  *  * 

Liviugstone  is  by  far  the  most  painstaking  and  precise  of  our  African  travellers.     He  looks 

ks  again  at  every  thing  that  comes  in  his  way,  and  he  spares  no  trouble  in  turning  aside 

♦c  his  knowledcre.  and  fit  himself  to  give  a  terse,  vigorous,  and  truthful  description  of 

s  worth    ot'cinc  at  all.     He  has  good  eyes,  and  wTites  a  skillful  record,  whatever  the 

.  judgment 


'^.R  &  BROTHERS,  Franklin  Square,  New  York. 
United  States,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of  $5  00. 


INSIDE: 


S^lLMUiCXMXLLliUI 


i  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


BY  GEORGE   F.  HARRINGTON. 


41 

A  Hi 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY   THOMAS    NAST. 


NEW  YORK: 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1866. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 

sixty-five,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


TO 

THE   MEN   AND   THE   WOMEN   OF  THE   SOUTH, 

OVERCOME, 

BUT  AS  THE  GALLANT  SHIP  IS  OVERCOME,  BY  THE  GALES  WHICH  SMITE  IT  FROM  GOD, 

ONLY  TO  BEAR  IT  ONWARD ; 

OVERCOME,    NOT    OF    MAN, 

BUT  BY  THE  SUBLIME  WILL  OF  HEAVEN,  TOO  MIGHTY  FOR  THE  MIGHTIEST  TO  RESIST, 
COMPELLING  ALL  THINGS  TOWARD  THE  HIGHEST  WELFARE  OF  THE  WORLD; 

TO  YOU 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED,  BY  ONE,  IF  THE  HUMBLEST,  NOT  THE  LEAST  SINCERE  AND 

DEVOTM)  OF  YOUR  NUMBER. 


602708 


PREFACE. 


TUB   AUTUOB  BUEYlNtt   1118  MANU80EIPT. 

Not  a  Preface  merely  for  preface'  sake,  but 
as  few  words  as  possible  by  way  of  explanation. 

This  book  was  ^\Titten  in  one  of  the  centres 
of  Secession.  Begun  at  the  outset,  it  grew  with 
the  growth  thereof,  and  closed  with  its  ending. 
Owing  to  peculiar  circumstances,  the  writer,  nev- 
er out  of  the  pale  of  Secession  during  its  contin- 
uance, had  full  time  and  opportunity  for  as  care- 
ful a  study  of  the  period  as  he  could  wish.  If 
he  has  cast  the  result  in  the  form  of  a  fiction  his 
work  is  none  the  less  as  essentially  true  as  the 
dryest  history  ever  penned;  and  will  be  acknowl- 
edged to  be  by  all  who,  by  reason  of  occupying 
a  like  position  during  the  war,  are  competent 
to  speak.  And  it  is  as  true,  in  most  respects, 
for  one  region  in  the  South  as  for  any  other,  the 
Secessionist  as  a  class  in  all  its  varieties,  and  the 


Union  men  as  a  class  in  all  its  varieties,  being, 
in  every  village  throughout  the  South,  very  much 
the  same  as  in  Somerville. 

The  form  of  a  novel  was  adopted  chiefly  to 
make  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  identify  the 
place  in  which  the  scene  is  laid  and  the  charac- 
ters acting  therein.  And  that  for  this  reason : 
The  period  embraced  in  the  story  is  one  which 
will  be,  in  all  its  aspects,  a  phenomenon  inter- 
esting to  men  for  generations  to  come.  Other 
volumes  will  treat  of  other  features  of  this  most 
remarkable  period ;  this  book  aims  only  to  pho- 
tograph the  social  aspect  thereof  from  a  point 
entirely  within;  and  it  is  a  period  altogether 
too  sublime,  both  in  its  evil  and  its  good,  for 
any  thing  so  short-lived  and  insect-like  as  mere 
personalities,  which,  as  they  buzz  and  sting  but 
during  their  brief  moment,  should  perish  also 
and  be  forgotten  within  the  same.  Yes,  if  there' 
be  one  drop  of  gall,  a  least  splinter  of  wormwood 
in  these  pages,  the  writer  is  ignorant  of  it. 

Born  at,  and  having  spent  almost  his  entire 
life  in,  the  South,  the  writer's  first  affections  are, 
by  that  nature  which  attaches  every  thing  that 
breathes  to  its  own  home,  with  and  for  the  South. 
At  the  very  same  time  he  entertains  a  love  yet 
larger  and  stronger  for  the  nation  of  which  the 
South  is  but  a  part,  and  is  powerless  to  refuse 
conviction,  both  of  head  and  heart,  to  the  truth 
that  the  whole  is  greater  than  part  of  the  whole. 
Above  all  docs  he  yield  reverence  and  affection, 
still  beyond  this,  to  Truth,  Right,  Conscience, 
God.  A  love  herein  without  the  least  conflict 
in  its  three  degrees  of  positive,  comparative,  su- 
perlative. Toward  no  one,  during  Secession, 
has  his  hatred  been  even  stirred.  For  many  a 
one,  during  that  time,  has  the  writer's  pity  been 
excited— his  deepest  pity  for  the  guiltiest  as  be- 
ing the  most  infatuated :  glad  that  justice,  hu- 
man justice  perhaps.  Divine  justice  certainly,  is 
to  be  meted  out ;  glad,  also,  that,  save  in  these 


PREFACE. 


humble  pages,  to  him  is  committed  neither  its 
determining  nor  the  execution. 

He  claims  no  merit  whatever  above  others, 
far  better,  mayhap,  in  every  other  respect  than 
himself,  for,  being  from  his  earliest  memory,  in 
every  thought,  emotion,  word,  deed,  through  all 
associations,  oppositions,  circumstances,  what- 
ever they  were,  a  Union  man — claims  no  mer- 
it for  this,  since  it  required  no  exertion  on  his 
part,  he  being  such  by  a  sort  of  nature,  as  a  ce- 
dar-tree is  not  a  cypress,  and  as  an  oak-tree  is 
an  oak.  Conscious  of  many  a  shortcoming  in 
other  respects,  he  has  nothing  to  reproach  him- 
self with  in  this,  unless  it  be  for  excess  of  love 
to  his  country,  which,  perhaps,  the  times  may 
excuse. 

The  very  manuscript  from  which  these  lines 
are  printed  could  tell  a  tale  of  its  own,  apart 
from  that  which  it  narrates,  in  confirmation  of 
this.  While  writing  it  the  author  was  perfectly 
aware  that  his  life  would  have  paid  the  forfeit 


had  a  written  page  been  discovered.  On  more 
than  one  Sunday  the  wife  of  the  writer  has  borne 
the  manuscript  to  church  concealed  about  her 
person,  in  terror  of  leaving  it,  like  powder  ex- 
posed to  chance  sparks,  at  home.  However,  as 
our  story  shows,  that  was  but  a  small  specimen 
of  the  totally  new  set  of  duties,  unprovided  for 
in  the  marriage  ceremony,  which  wives  had  to 
perform  for  Union  husbands  during  Secession. 
On  two  occasions  the  wTiter  was  obliged  to  bury 
his  manuscript  in  the  ground,  thereby  damaging 
it  seriously.  To  that  the  printer  whose  misfor- 
tune it  is  to  set  up  these  pages  will  tearfully  de- 
pone. 

They  say  that  even  amidst  rock  and  glacier, 
avalanche  and  tempest  of  Alpine  regions,  there 
spring  flowers  not  unworthy  the  gathering.  Who 
knows  but  it  may  be  so  with  this  volume,  which 
has  slowly  and  painfully  matured  its  leaves  un- 
der circumstances —  But  suppose  we  permit  the 
book  to  speak  for  itself. 


INSIDE. 


A   CHRONICLE   OF   SECESSION, 


'^IlDBBAll   FOB   LINCOLN    AN'   TUE   SOL'F ! 


CHAPTER  I. 

«'A  LITTLE  more  powder  and  a  little  more  shot 
'11  teach  dem  Yankees  how  to  trot!" 

"No,  Amouse,  no;  that  ain't  the  way;  this 
the  way : 

"Little  more  shot  an'  little  powder 
'11  make  them  Yankees  holler  louder!" 

"No,  Bub,  'tain't ;    you   an'  Amoiiso   bofe 
TNTong : 

"Hurrah:  liurrahl  for  the  Yankee  flag 
That  bears  the  stingle  star!" 

"Lor',  Miss  'Ria,  you  better  not  sing  dat — 
not  dc  Yankee  flag — bonncr  blue  flag — " 
"You  shut  up,  Amouse;  hush,  'Ria." 
"Hush  your  own  mouth,  Bub.     Hurrah  for 
Lincohi  au'  Jcfi" Davis!" 


"Oh,  'Ria,  I'll  lell  I'a  wliat  you  said!  Hol- 
lered for  old  Lincoln  ;  didn't  she,  Amouse?  If 
tliey  don't  hang  you !  Yonder's  Puj)per  now, 
just  coming  in  the  gate.  Oh,  I'upper,  here's 
'Ria  been  hollering  all  the  morning  for  Abe 
Lincoln  !     Ain't  she  a  old  Yankee?" 

"Am  a  Yankee!  Am  a 'Bolitionist!  Hate 
old  Davis !     Hurrah  for  Lincoln  an'  the  Souf !" 

"Hush  your  racket,  children  ;  hush  that,  Ma- 
ria!" and  their  father  fastened  the  gate  slowly 
and  carefully  behind  him. 

"They  know  just  about  as  much  about  it  all 
as  most  grown  people,"  said,  but  strictly  to  him- 
self, the  father  of  'Ria  and  Bub  and  the  master 
of  Amos,  about  whose  profession,  as  he  walks  to- 
ward the  house,  there  is  no  necessity  of  inform- 
ing you.  That  he  is  a  doctor  you  can  see  by 
the  medical  saddle-bags  which  he  carries  hung 
over  his  left  arm.  A  good,  careful,  conscien- 
tious doctor  too,  especially  to  nurse  a  patient 
through  a  long  illness.  That  you  can  read  in 
his  mild,  florid  face,  in  the  loiter  of  his  very  gait. 

But,  if  you  are  a  woman,  and  possess  intui- 
tion, you  can  not  help  seeing  also  that  this  Dr. 
Warner  is  not  the  man  to  make  an  eminent 
surgeon.  As  you  observe,  following  him  with 
your  eyes  toward  the  house,  he  has  very  light 
hair  and  eyes — not  the  man  to  scoop  a  tumor 
out  of  the  bosom  of  one's  screaming  child — not 
one  you  would  care  to  call  in  if  your  leg  had 
suddenly  to  be  taken  out  of  its  socket  at  the 
tliigh.  When  Nature  has  given  a  decided  char- 
acter to  a  man  or  woman  she  is  very  apt  to  hang 
out  some  decided  flag  of  it  on  the  outer  wall : 
eyes  of  some  definite  color ;  hair  red,  black,  or 
very  brown. 

"But,  Pupper,"  says  Bub,  calling  after  his 
father,  "oh,  Pupper,  please  make  'Ria  stop  hol- 
lering out  here  for  Lincoln  ;  she's  all  the  time 
doing  it.  Joe  Staples  threw  a  rock  at  us  yes- 
terday ;  hit  our  Amouse  plum  on  the  head." 

"You  hear,  Maria.  Mind  what  Bub  says. 
Don't  you  let  me  hear  of  your  hollering  any 
more,"  sa3-s  the  father,  turning  half  around. 
"Don't  you  know  ladies  never  holler?" 

"  Oh,  Pa,  but  yes  they  do !"  exclaims  his 
daughter.  "Don't  you  know  how  Sally  Smith- 
ers  waved  her  towel  an'  hollered  tlint  day  the 


8 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


soldiers  marched? — all  the  ladies  on  the  front 
porches — don't  you  'member?" 

"  Handkerchief,  child ;  but  you  are  a  little, 
little  girl,  not  eight  years  old  ;  you  mustn't  hol- 
ler—" 

"  Yeslmust,  Pupper;  have  to  holler.  Amouse 
here,  he  hollers ;  Joe  Staples  hollers  ;  Bub  is 
always  hollering  ;  every  body  in  Sonicrville  is 
always  hollering  all  the  time." 

"Well,  Maria,  if  you  must  have  something 
to  holler—" 

'"Bliged  to,"  put  in  the  little  girl. 
"Then  holler  for — Andrew  Jackson;"   and 
her  prudent  parent  passed  on  into  tlie  house. 

Ever  mindful  of  the  various  poisons  in  his 
saddle-bags,  Dr.  Warner  placed  them  on  a  small 
shelf  made  for  the  express  purpose,  in  the  hall 
beside  the  hat-stand,  highout  ofreachof  the  chil- 
dren. Next  he  proceeded,  with  what  might  be 
styled  a  cautious  step  for  a  man  in  his  own  house, 
to  the  door  leading  into  the  breakfast-room. 

"Ah,  Sarah,  breakfast  over,  I  see,"  he  said, 
first  glancing  in  through  the  partly-opened  door, 
and  then  venturing  more  boldly  in,  when  he  sees 
that  no  one  is  therein  except  the  negro  woman 
standing  over  the  wrecks  of  the  meal,  washing 
up  the  cups  and  saucers. 
Prey  fairly  in  the  trap,  the  trigger  springs : 
"Over,  Dr.  Warner?     Of  course  it  was,  one 
good  hour  ago,  and  you  knew  it  when  you  asked." 
It  was  his  wife  who  said  it,  following  her  voice 
into  the  breakfast-room  as  she  spoke.     She  had 
been  saying  it  over  to  herself  ever  since  she  heard 
the  front  gate  click,  and  short  and  sharp  enough 
were  the  tones  in  which  she  spoke. 

"Gracious  goodness!  can't  your  patients  fix 
it  so  we  can  have  some  little  order  about  our 
meals?  But  it  is  all  your  fault,  Dr.  Warner. 
W^hy  can't  you  just  give  them  their  physic,  what- 
ever it  is,  be  done  with  it,  and  come  home? 
Here's  Sarah — why  can't  you  get  that  cofi'ee- 
pot,  Sarah? — here's  Sarah  — and  you  haven't 
washed  them  plates  up  yet?— here's  Sarah  kept 
from  her  morning's  work,  and  kept  from  and 
kept  from  it,  and  she  a  good  six  dozen  washing 
to  have  done  and  hung  out  before  the  cows  come 
up  to-night.  If  I  was  you,  Dr.  Warner,  I'd  give 
up  my  practice ;  goodness  knows  you  make  lit- 
tle enough  at  it;  you  would  make  plenty  if  you 
would  only  collect.  But  precious  little  you'd 
make  at  any  thing  else !" 

"It  doesn't  matter,  Helen,"  ventured  her 
spouse,  whose  somewhat  bald  head  had  fallen 
into  an  indescribable  droop,  as  of  one  under  a 
shower-bath,  the  instant  his  wife  began.  So 
saying,  he  drew  his  chair  to  the  table  while  the 
servant  was  placing  his  breakfast  thereon.  "I 
have  been  up  near  all  night,"  he  continued,  as 
he  stirred  his  coffee ;  "  haven't  any  warm  hom- 
iny ?  Never  mind,  I  have  no  appetite,  any  thing 
will  do." 

"That  Mrs.  Bowles,  I  suppose.     Bring  me 


my  work  here  off  the  sewing-machine,  and  mind 
you  wij)e  your  wet  hands  clean  before  you  do  it, 
you  Sarah;"  and  Mrs.  Warner  takes  a  seat  at 
the  other  end  of  the  table.  "I  would  like  to 
know  when  xhe  settled  last — such  a  lady  as  yon 
always  call  her.  And  why  haven't  you  told  me 
what  is  the  matter  with  the  woman?  They 
might  have  given  you  at  least  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"And  so  they  did,  Alice  saw  to  that,"  says 
Dr.  AVarner,  who  never  fails  to  speak  the  best 
he  can  of  any  and  every  one. 

"Coffee!  Yes,  Confederate  coffee.  Til  bet," 
interposes  his  wife,  threading  her  needle. 

"Yes,  but  you  couldn't  have  told  the  differ- 
ence— at  least,  hardly ;"  for  the  Doctor  is  very 
truthful  too. 

"Stuff!  Never  tell  me,"  breaks  in  his  wife. 
"There's  old  Mrs.  Juggins,  she  uses  barley. 
You  know  you  couldn't  stand  that,  even  the 
smell.  Came  to  find  out  we  had  gone  and 
ground  it,  while  she  used  it  so — only  toasted. 
Tried  not  grinding,  but  it  wouldn't  do.  There's 
sweet-potatoes,  too,  cut  tiiin  and  browned.  Mrs. 
Bowles's  notion ;  you  know  what  a  sickly  sort  of 
sweet  it  was.  Coffee !  Rye,  too,  that  is  Mr. 
Neely's  plan.  Like  a  Yankee!  Tiien  there's 
Mr.  Ferguson,  okra  seed's  his  Scotch  scheme,  as 
if  one  could  get  okra  seed  enough  to  last  a  week. 
Never  tell  me !  A  thing  is  either  coft'ee  or  it  ain't 
coffee.  You  are  so  jiolite  you  pretend  you  can't 
tell  the  difference — don't  catch  me." 

"One  dollar  a  pound,"  ventures  her  husband. 

"What,  gone  up  to  a  dollar?  Oh,  if  I  only 
was  a  man !  If  I  didn't  hang  them.  First 
thing  you  knew  it  was  fifty  cents.  Next  time  I 
went  in  to  the  stores  it  was :  '  Not  one  pound  on 
hand,  ma'am,  sorry  to  say ;  hope  to  get  some 
soon.'  Yes,  and  when  they  did  have  some  next 
time  it  was  eighty  cents.  And  all  the  time  they 
were  pretending  to  be  out  they  had  sacks  and 
sacks  of  it  piled  away  down  in  the  cellar,  or  hid- 
den under  carpets  and  things  way  up  in  the  loft. 
Oh,  if  I  was  only  a  man !  Calicoes  up  to  fifty 
cents ;  domestics,  six  bits ;  fifty  cents  for  a  tin 
cup ;  five  pounds  of  sugar  for  a  dollar ;  molasses, 
dollar  and  a  quarter ;  shoes,  eight  dollars ;  fiour, 
fifty  dollars,  or  soon  will  be.  I'd  like  to  know 
what  we  are  coming  to!  Mr.  Barker  was  right 
— they  are  worse  than  Yankees !  Our  men  gone 
off  to  fight  the  battles  of  their  country,  bleeding 
and  dying  somewhere,  and  they  at  home  making 
money  out  of  the  poor  wives,  and  widows,  and 
orphans.  Barker  was  right.  Their  stores  ought 
to  be  just  taken,  the  goods  sold  for  them  at 
the  old  prices.  Hang  them!"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Warner,  her  wrath  rising,  as  it  ever  did,  at  the 
sound  of  her  own  voice.  "  Yes,  as  brother  Bark- 
er says,  '  I  could  string  them  up  with  my  own 
hands!'" 

"Rather  strong  language  for  a  preacher,"  in- 
terposed her  husband,  who  was  quietly  eating 
his  breakfast. 

m 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


•'As  mxich  as  to  say,  if  Mr.  Barker  oughtn't 
to  say  it  because  he  is  a  i)reacher,  1  oughtn't  to 
say  it  because  I'm  a  woman.' 

Dr.  Warner  continues  to  breakfast.  A  little 
more,  perhaps,  of  the  shower-bath  droop  about 
the  head.  There  is  a  pause  of  surprise  in  the 
eyes  of  his  wife.  She  sits  with  suspended  nee- 
dle, looking  at  her  husband.  And  while  she  is 
still  an  instant  let  us  seize  that  rare  instant  to 
catch  her  pliotograph — if  wc  can. 

■When  Dr.  Warner  fust  settled  in  Somerville, 
years  ago  this  18G2,  Mrs.  Warner  was  a  tall, 
spare,  shrill  spinster.  Other  than  being  an  ex- 
cecdin;;ly  industrious  and  neat  housekeeper  Miss 
Helen  Morris  had  only  fourteen  recommenda- 
tions to  a  marrying  man ;  and  tliose  fourteen 
had  legs  and  could  wield  hoes,  scrubbing-brushes, 
and  washing-boards.  Somehow  or  other  the 
Doctor  married  her.  Was  it  that  the  poor  and 
patientless  young  Doctor  wanted  a  home  ?  Mrs. 
Warner  very  often  afterward  herself  suggested 
that  solution  of  the  case.  It  was  a  special 
weapon  in  her  arsenal  in  the  worriment  of  her 
husband,  which  worriment  was  a  large  part  of 
her  housekeeping.  Nor  did  she  conceal  her 
painful  impression  to  that  effect  from  chance 
company  either ;  for  it  was  a  peculiarity  of  Mrs. 
Warner  to  express  herself  upon  matters,  pleasant 
and  unpleasant,  relating  to  herself  openly,  fully, 
and  upon  every  occasion.  Or  it  may  be — most 
were  of  that  opinion — that  it  was  not  the  Doctor 
who  married  the  lady,  but  the  lady  who  married 
him.  Good,  easy,  indolent  man,  he  was  no 
match  for  Miss  Helen  Morris — as  natural  a 
prey  to  such  a  woman  as  a  mouse  is  to  a  cat. 

Not  that  the  Doctor  did  not  have  warning 
fair  and  sufficient.  When  he  applied  that  day 
in  the  dirty  county  court  office  to  Bob  Withers, 
county  clerk,  for  the  marriage  license,  that  gen- 
tleman did  his  best.  Years  after  Bob  prided 
himself  upon  that. 

"  To  Miss  Helen  Morris — not  the  widow  Mor- 
ris— to  Miss  Helen  Morris,  did  you  say,  Doc?" 
he  asked,  with  an  emphasis  not  complimentary. 

Even  when  Bob  Withers  brought  himself  fair- 
ly to  the  task  of  filling  up  the  blanks  of  a  license 
he  spoiled  one  form,  and  then  another,  with  blun- 
ders, his  mind  evidently  being  on  something  else. 
And  when  he  had  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink  to 
begin  at  the  third  it  was  only  to  stick  it  behind 
his  car,  unlock  the  drawer  in  the  desk  at  which 
he  wrote,  take  out  a  pistol  and  lay  it  thereupon, 
the  handle  convenient  to  his  friend.  A  frank 
and  wholesome  face,  Bob's. 

"  Doc,"  he  solemnly  said,  with  hand  resting 
upon  the  weapon,  "I  like  you  as  much,  by 
George !  as  any  man  I  know.  I  haven't  forgot 
that  typhoid  fever  time.  But  look  here,  Doc. 
I  know  that  Miss  Helen  Morris — gracious  Heav- 
ens!" with  considerable  irritation,  "who  in  Som- 
en-ille  don't  know  her? — and  I  just  tell  you  as 
a  friend,  you  see — no  other  possible  interest  in 


the  thing — but  before  you  marry  them  1)lack 
eyes  and  that  awful  tongue — you  see  I  boarded 
with  her  once — you'd  better  take  this  Derringer 
and  kill  yourself,  by  George!  and  be  done  with 
it.' 
But  the  Doctor  married  her. 
Early  in  life  Miss  Helen  may  have  been  a 
brunette  and  all  the  rest.  But  Mrs.  Warner 
was  now  sallow — only  sallow.  The  lips  were 
still  red,  but  very  thin.  And  then  her  eyes? 
Once  on  a  time  the  Reverend  Edward  Arthur 
had  made  a  pretty  long  trip  on  a  canal  boat, 
and  on  his  introduction  to  Mrs.  Warner,  when 
lie  first  took  cliarge  of  the  Somerville  church, 
he  had  been  struck  with  a  foolish  fancy  that 
her  blackly-defined  eyebrows  resembled  the  lock- 
gates  on  the  canal  when  ojicning  to  let  down 
the  water.  The  fact  is,  the  lady's  eyes  and  eye- 
brows did  have  an  oblique  direction  upward 
above  the  nose,  giving  her  the  appearance  of 
being  wide  awake,  becoming  more  and  more 
oblique  as  she  grew  excited.  Free  as  the  air  in 
the  expression  of  herself;  tough  and  elastic  as 
gutta  percha;  electric  from  head  to  foot,  the 
electricity  quivering,  as  its  nature  is  on  every 
projecting  point  of  the  body  charged,  at  the  tips 
of  her  fingers,  the  corners  of  her  eyes  and  mouth, 
in  focus  on  the  end  of  her  tongue. 

But  let  us  be  charitable.  Perhaps  if  you,  or 
even  if  I  myself,  had  dipped  snuff  as  long  and  as 
incessantly  as  she  had,  we  too  would  have  been 
as  nervous  as  she  was.  But  very  little  Bub, 
'Ria,  Amos,  Sarah,  and  the  rest  had  to  endure 
it  in  comparison  with  the  Doctor.  Sharp  and 
jierpetual  as  were  her  eyes  and  tongue  in  re- 
gard to  all  within  and  without  her  household, 
the  Doctor  had  by  far  the  larger  share  thereof. 

Because  for  him  it  was  she  cared  most.  In- 
dolent, sensible,  getting-to-be-corpulent,  sloven- 
ly Dr.  Warner !  He  has  learned  only  to  droop 
his  head  and  take  it.  When  it  becomes  too 
bad,  and  if  Mrs.  Warner  pours  her  vial  upon 
him  when  company — as  she  often  does — is  pres- 
ent, the  Doctor,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment, 
carries  his  drooped  head  out  of  the  parlor  and 
off  the  place.  Yet,  let  us  get  at  the  eternal  rea- 
son and  meaning  of  things  ;  for  there  is  as  solid 
a  reason  for  the  growth  of  a  nettle  as  there  is 
for  tlie  existence  of  a  rose  —  as  substantial  a 
meaning  in  the  existence  of  a  mosquito  as  in 
the  life  of  John  Howard.  As  a  needed  spur — 
we  will  not  call  it  thorn — in  his  side,  this  wife 
is  a  blessing  to  this  husband.  He  mamed  her, 
perhaps,  with  blind  promptings — who  knows? — 
from  his  physiological  studies,  because  she  was 

i  so  unlike  to  himself.  And  she  married  him? — 
perhaps  from  some  vague  intuitions  to  the  same 

I  effect. 

I  If  the  stream  of  my  story  did  not  hurry  me 
on  so  urgently  I  would  like  to  turn  out  of  its 
current  for  a  moment  and  say  just  one  word 
about  that  admirable  provision  of  Nature,  by 


10 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


which  she  preserves,  in  our  species  as  in  the 
planets,  her  own  sacred  bahince.  When  it  is 
not  Parent,  nor  Pique,  nor  Mammon,  nor  any 
thing  other  than  sweet  Nature  herself  who  weds 
you  to  your  wife,  you  will  find  that  slie  mates 
you  two  on  the  plan  of  a  perfect  compensation  ; 
that  is,  she  makes  up  for  the  excess  of  any  de- 
fect in  one  of  you  by  an  excess  of  the  opjjosite 
virtue  in  the  other.  It  was  something  other 
than  Nature  that  made  the  match  if  you,  a  tall 
man,  arc  wedded  to  any  other  than  an  under- 
sized woman.  Woe  to  you.  Madam,  if  you,  a 
blonde,  are  united  to  a  fair-haired  man !  So 
of  that  inner  nature  of  which  the  outer  aj)pcar- 
ance  is  but  the  symbol.  Alas  for  you,  Sir,  if 
you,  a  man  of  desjjonding  temperament,  arc 
wedded  to  a  wife  of  the  same  dismal  hue  of  feel- 
ing! Though  I  believe,  even  in  that  case,  Na- 
ture strives  to  make  tlie  best  of  a  union  in  which 
she  had  no  hand.  I  will  not  say  how  it  will  be 
if  you  are  a  man  ;  but  if  you  arc  a  woman  I  am 
certain  of  this:  however  despondent  you  may 
yourself  be,  the  instant  you  detect  the  slightest 
gloom  in  your  husband's  brow,  or  the  least  growl 
in  his  voice,  you  go  instinctively  to  the  other- 
side  of  the  tilting  bark,  and  become  as  cheerful 
as  possible.  And  the  instant  you  give  way  to 
gloom  notice  how  awkwardly,  yet  well  mean- 
ingly, he,  poor  fellow!  attempts  at  least  to  trim 
the  tilting  vessel  by  putting  on  at  least  an  aspect 
of  cheerfulness.  Woe,  then,  had  it  been  to  Mrs. 
Warner  if  she  had  been  united  to  some  black- 
eyed,  black-haired,  black-bearded  husband  !  No- 
tice the  union  of  two  sable  clouds  in  mid-air,  if 
you  would  understand  the  result.  So  that  when 
Mrs.  Warner  paused  from  her  sewing  and  said, 

"As  much  as  to  say,  if  brother  Barker  oughtn't 
to  say  it  because  he  is  a  preacher,  I  oughtn't  to 
say  it  because  I'm  a  woman."  The  Doctor  only 
helped  himself  in  a  sidelong  and  deprecatory 
manner  to  the  butter. 

"I  do  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Warner — "  Sarah, 
step  out  and  tell  those  children  to  hush  that  noise 
— I  do  believe,"  she  continued  in  low,  sepulchral 
tones,  "that  you,  Dr.  Warner,  are  a — Union 
man!" 

•Language  can  not  set  forth  the  awfnlness  of 
epithet  implied  in  the  charge,  the  canal  gates 
opening  wider  and  wider.  "Yes,  and  I  know 
now  why  the  bells  didn't  ring  last  night !  I  was 
wondering,  I  know  now !"  said  ]\Irs.  Warner 
swiftly,  and  with  a  new  light  breaking  all  over 
her  face.  "Yes,  and  why  you  couldn't  leave 
Mrs.  Bowles.  Worse,  is  she  !  Ha !  Yes,  I  see 
it  all."     Canal  gates  open  their  widest. 

Dr.  Warner  glanced  up  from  his  plate  at  his 
wife  with  a  flash  of  admiration.  "What  an 
amazingly  sharp  woman  !"  he  said  to  himself. 

" Bells ?"  he  said,  however,  at  last.  "Bells ? 
T  should  think,  Helen,  you  would  have  had 
enough  of  bells  night  before  last.  Every  bell  in 
town !     There  was  the  big  Methodist  bell ;  I  lay 


and  counted  no  less  than  ten  fresh  hands  in  turn 
at  that  bell-ro])e  before  day.  The  first  hand  be- 
gan as  if  he  would  break  the  bell  to  pieces,  jiullcd 
until  it  was  broken  down  ;  then  you  could  notice 
the  rope  taken  by  another  till  he  gave  uj)  ex- 
hausted ;  then  by  another,  through  the  whole  ten. 
I  am  not  nervous,  but  I  couldn't  get  a  wink  of 
sleep." 

"Dr.  Warner!"  said  Mrs.  W.  solemnly,  needle, 
eyes,  breath  suspended. 

"And  you  know  I  said  at  the  time — or  was  it 
you  yourself  made  the  remark — " 

"  Dr.  Warner  ! — Sarah,  don't  come  here,  stay 
in  the  kitchen  till  I  call  you." 

"Well,  it  was  one  of  us  said  it,"  continued 
the  husband,  very  quietly  sipjnng  his  coflTee,  look- 
ing over  the  top  of  his  cup  with  unusual  hardi- 
hood at  his  eager  wife. 

"You  know  I  never  said  it!"  broke  in  the 
wife.  You  know  I  never  could  have  been  such 
a  traitor  as  to  have  said  it.  And  if  the  paper 
that  came  last  night  says  our  soldiers  have  been 
whipped  there  in  Tennessee,  it's  a  lie !  Didn't 
the  papers  night  before  last  tell  how  our  men 
had  come  out  of  Fort  Donelson  and  driven  the 
Hessians  back  through  their  camps,  and  killed 
six  thousand,  and  taken  all  the  rest  prisoners, 
and — and — " 

"Very  well,  my  dear,  you  needn't  be  excited 
at  me.  Have  it  your  own  way.  Suppose  we 
talk  of  something  else." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Jlrs.  Bowles,  Dr. 
Warner?"  asked  his  wife,  with  sudden  suspicion. 

"Well,"  replied  her  helpmate,  slowly,  "the 
faculty  have  different  names  for  it.  There  are 
febrile  symptoms,  too  much  excitement  in  the 
brain.     Nervous,  hysteria." 

"Stuff;  but  what  has  made  her  worse?  I 
know  it  can  not  be  she  has  heard  any  bad  news 
about  that  everlasting  Rutledge  Bowles  of  hers, 
for  you  would  have  told  me  so  when  you  first 
came.  What  has  she  heard  ?  Something  bad, 
I  know." 

"Well,  yes.  But  you  know,  my  dear.  Mis. 
Bowles  permits  her  mind  to  run  too  much,  really 
too  much,  on  the  events  of  the  day — " 

"Dr.  Warner,"  says  his  wife,  in  alarming 
tones  though  lower  than  before,  "will  you  tell 
me  the  news  that  came  last  night?" 

"  If  you  wish  it.  Remember  it  may  be  false ; 
you  will  be  sure  it  is.  In  any  case  I  didn't  do 
any  thing  to  bring  it  about." 

"What  ?*-it?" 

"  Fort  Donelson  has  fallen,  my  dear.  General 
Johnson  has  retreated  into  Alabama.  Nashville 
has  capitulated.  A  good  many  more  items  to 
the  same  effect.  At  least  so  the  paper  says.  I 
dare  say  part  of  the  news  may  be  exaggerated, 
premature  at  least." 

"  It's  a  lie — it's  a  base,  base,  base  lie  !  I'll  bet 
a  thousand  dollars  the  man  that  prints  that  pa- 
per is  a  Yankee.     He  ought  to  be  hung !" 


INSIDE.— A  CimONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


11 


Perhaps  it  was  owing  to  her  cheeks  having  be- 
come some  shades  sallower  that  Mrs.  Warner's 
lips  seemed  so  much  redder,  her  eyes  and  hair 
so  much  blacker  than  before.  "Oh,  if  I  was 
only  a  man !"  she  added. 

Meanwhile  her  husband  only  arched  his  brows 


deprecatingly,  and  proceeded  to  eat  liis  break- 
fast with  a  coolness,  appetite,  even  cheerfulness, 
which  contrasted  greatly  with  the  vehement,  al- 
most hysterical,  wife  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table. 

But,  oh  the  exquisite  satisfaction  of  Dr.  War- 


12 


INSIDE.— A  CilKOXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ner  in  imparting  the  news,  unspeakable  satis- 
faction at  the  very  core  of  his  heart,  though 
all  the  rest  of  his  anatomy  might  disavow  it ! 

How  you  up  there  at  the  North  rang  your 
bells  and  blazed  in  all  manner  of  illumination, 
and  invoked  the  entire  hive  to  help  utter  your 
gratification,  Heaven  and  History  well  know. 
Your  joy?  It  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  electric  ecstasy  thereat  which  flashed  unex- 
pressed through  all  loyal  hearts  at  the  South. 
Heaven  only  knew  it  then ;  History  shall  know 
it  forever. 

"And  if  it  is  true,  though  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it,  there's  some  base  treachery  in  it,  or 
the  officers  were  all  drunk,  or  they  were  all  a 
pack  of  cowards !  To  give  up  to  Yankees !  I 
do  wish  the  Yankees  had  managed  to  kill  them. 
I  hope  Davis  will  have  tiiem  tried  and  hung," 
says  Mrs.  Warner. 

"Why,  my  dear,  it  would  take  a  perfect  fac- 
tory to  keep  you  in  rope,"  dares  her  husband, 
playfully  but  injudiciously. 

"And  you  are  not  sorry  a  single  bit!"  re- 
sponds his  wife,  turning  the  lightning  of  her  rage 
zigzag  in  every  direction  that  ofters.  "  I  do  be- 
lieve you  are  glad.  I  tell  you.  Dr.  Warner,  if 
I  actually  thought  so,  was  satisfied  of  it,  I  would 
not  care  that,  if  we  have  been  mamed  so  long. 
I'd — ha!  no  wonder  you  wouldn't  get  up  that 
night  the  bells  rung  so.  I  had  to  hunch  and 
hunch  you  ever  so  often  before  you  woke  even. 
And  when  you  did  wake,  you  said  it  must  be 
fire,  not  even  expecting  a  victory.  Ought  not 
to  be  too  certain,  you  said,  at  the  very  time  ev- 
ery bell  in  town  was  ringing  as  hard  as  could  be. 
Dr.  Warner,  you  are  the  worry  of  my  life  !  And 
there  you  sit  this  moment  just  as  cool — " 

"  But  j'ou  know,  Helen,  I  heard  the  news 
several  hours  ago.  Besides,  I've  just  drunk  two 
cups  of  3'our  excellent  coffee.  Then,  my  mind 
has  been  taken  up  with  Mrs.  Bowles's  case. 
And,  really,  my  dear,"  said  the  Doctor,  eager 
to  divert  the  conversation,  "  I'm  getting  uneasy 
about  Mrs.  Bowles.  Such  a  sensitive,  refined 
little  body  she  is !  perfect  lady,  too,  in  every  re- 
spect ;  but  she  has  given  herself  up  to  so  much 
excitement  for  so  long.  Rutledge  Bowles,  too ; 
the  news  night  before  last  almost  deranged  her 
with  joy.  Then  comes  that  news  last  night. 
The  reaction  was  almost  too  much  for  her.  I 
tell  you  what,  my  dear,"  continued  the  Doctor, 
with  indolent  hypocrisy,  "I'm  glad  I  have  a 
wife  who  is  stronger  than  her  nerves.  Glad, 
my  dear,  that  you  have  such  strong  sense  of 
your  own  to  keep  you  steady  these  stormy  times." 

"  No,  Dr.  Warner,  you  can't  blind  me.  With 
all  her  aristocratic  airs  I  know  there  are  some 
things,  at  least,  in  which  I  can  only  pity.  One 
can't  help  liking  Alice.  You  never  hear  Rut- 
lege  Bowles  from  her  lips  —  never  opens  her 
mouth  about  him,  hardly.  But,  if  you  mean  to 
say  she  loves  the  South  more  than  I  do — " 


"But  what  is  the  use  of  worrying  yourself? 
The  armies  are  in  the  field,  doing,  I  dare  say, 
all  they  can.  And  you  are  doing  all  you  can. 
You  are  out  every  day  collecting  for  the  soldiers, 
and  you  sing  for  them  at  all  the  concerts,  act  for 
them  in  all  the  tableaux,  sew  for  them,  knit, 
quilt.  What  more  can  you  do  ?  If  one-half  of 
the  ladies  of  Somer^•illc  only  did  one-half  of 
what  you  do — " 

"  Ah,  Dr.  Warner,  I  see  what  you  are  after !" 
said  his  wife,  somewhat  mollified  ;  "but  you  are 
only  from  Tennessee,  Eastern  Tennessee  at  that, 
and  you  know  where  I'm  from.  What  I  want 
is  for  you  to  be  more  interested,  excited,  more 
like  a  warm-hearted  Southern  man.  But  there 
you  go  day  after  day  with  your  old  saddle-bags 
over  your  arm,  just  as  you  used  to  do,  feeling 
people's  pulses,  dosing  children,  pulling  teeth — 
you  don't  talk  enough.  But  this  news — oh,  it 
can't,  can't — " 

"In  your  acquaintance  among  the  ladies  those 
that  talk  most,  fuss  most,  do  most  of  the  work 
do  they,  eh?  Why  you  told  me  yourself,  Hel- 
en—" 

"Pshaw!  Dr.  Warner,  you  know  perfectly 
well  what  I  mean.  Y'ou  are  not  sure  enough 
the  South  is  going,  to  succeed.  And  you  visit 
among  those  Union  people  just  as  much — more, 
I  believe — than  you  do  among  good  Secession- 
ists. Nobody  can  get  any  thing  out  of  you. 
Look  at  Dr.  Ginnis." 

"  Which  do  you  think  the  best  doctor  of  the 
two  ?  No,  my  dear,  I'm  a  physician  in  large 
practice,  I  believe  ;  all  my  time  is  taken  up  with 
my  patients.  Dr.  Ginnis  is  more  politician  than 
medical  man — talks  about  the  war  at  the  top  of 
his  big  voice  at  the  bedside  of  the  sick,  and,  no 
matter  how  sick  they  are,  for  the  hour  at  a 
time.  If  he  likes,  and  they  like,  let  him.  I 
prefer  to  do  my  way,  physic  them,  and  come 
home  to  my  family.  Y''ou  know  what  a  quiet 
sort  of  man  I  am.  Besides,  you  have  patriotism 
enough  for  us  both,  Helen.  Take  your  way, 
my  dear — let  me  take  mine." 

"Yes,  Ur.  Warner.  Oh  yes ;  I  dare  say.  Verj* 
fine.  But  what  worries  my  life  out  is  nobody  can 
tell.  When  you  are  with  Secessionists  you  are 
as  mum  as  a  mouse,  or  open  your  lips  only  to 
dispute  something.  When  you  are  with  those 
Union  people,  oh  I  know  you  !  Why  don't  you 
denounce  them,  tell  me  that?  Every  body  in 
Somerv'ille  is  talking  about  you.  Mr.  Neely  told 
me  only  last  Monday,  when  he  was  here  to  see 
about  Bub  drawing  those  pictures  on  his  black- 
board, as  if  you  can  expect  a  child  to  respect  a 
Yankee  teacher ! — told  me,  humph,  much  faith  I 
have  in  him,  loud  as  he  talks — told  me  Lamum 
told  him  that  Dr.  Peel  said  he  really  believed 
you  were  nothing  more'n  less  than  a  Aholitionist, 
if  the  truth  was  known  !"  But  to  describe  Mrs. 
Warner's  emphasis  on  the  word  is  beyond  the 
power  of  type. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


13 


"And  this  great  Dr.  Peel  knows,  of  course, 
more  about  mc — he  has  been  here  less  than  a 
year,  I  l)olieve — than  you  do,  or  than  any  body 
who  hiis  known  nie  here  for  ten  years,"  says 
Dr. Warner,  pushing  away  his  plate  from  before 
him. 

"  I  told  Mr.  Neely  to  tell  Lamum  to  tell  Dr. 
Peel  from  me  that  it  wivs  a  lie,  and  he  knew  it," 
said  Mrs.  AVarner,  promptly  cnougii.  "  If  he 
hints  such  a  thing  to  me,  the  big,  bedizzened  old 
puppy,  I'll  slap  those  ears  of  his !  But  don't  you 
go  and  say  any  thing  to  him,"  adds  Mrs.  War- 
ner, who  had  got  her  husband  into  hot  water 
more  than  once  in  their  married  life,  as  he  rises 
from  the  table. 

"Not  the  least  fear  of  me.  I  would  be  a  fool 
to  mind  any  thing  any  one  says  of  me  in  these 
days,"  replies  her  helpmate. 

"But  this  dreadful,  dreadful  news !  Are  yon 
sure  you  are  not  mistaken  ?  It  can't,  can't  be 
true !  I'll  put  on  my  sun-bonnet  and  run  over 
to  Mrs.  Ret  Roberts,  she'll  know  all  about  it. 
Though,  poor  thing !  how  such  a  man  as  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts  ever  came  to  marry  her,  soft,  say  no- 
thing sort  of  a  thing —  Oh,  one  thing,  Dr.  War- 
ner, engage  me  ten  pounds  of  coft'ee  at  Mr.  El- 
lis's. If  any  body  has  any  conscience  left  he's — 
But,  Dr.  Warner" — and  his  wife  seizes  upon  him 
as  he  passes  her^"do  you  really  think,  really 
now,  there's  any  doubt  about  the  South  succeed- 
ing?" 

Nature  gives  every  living  thing  some  mode  of 
defense,  or  at  least  escape.  People  that  have 
feeble  hands  generally  are  compensated  with  ad- 
mirable legs.  Master  Fox  does  not  pretend  to 
the  roar  nor  to  the  teeth  and  claws  of  the  lion  ; 
but  then  Sir  Reynard  is  not  deficient  in  cunning. 
This  Dr.  Warner  can"  no  more  stand  before  the 
eyes  and  the  tongue  of  his  wife  than  he  can  be- 
fore Atropos.  Thin-haired,  florid,  unaggressive, 
fat,  too,  he  does  only  what  nature  has  left  him 
to  do — droops  his  head  and  takes  it.  It  is  a  great 
deal  he  has  to  take,  when  she  is  fairly  at  it. 
Spare  in  frame  as  she  is,  but  oh,  the  interplat- 
ting  of  her  eyes  and  lips  are  about  as  awful  a 
scourge  as  need  be ! 

Sarah,  and  the  rest  in  the  kitchen,  take  their 
share  of  Mrs.  Warner  black  and  silent  as  night — 
such  the  shield  nature  supplies  them.  Bub  and 
'Ria,  the  two  children,  dodge  and  escape  out  of 
range,  with  steadily  growing  contempt  for  her 
in  her  bursts  of  fondness  and  preserves  as  in  her 
anger  and  scolding.  At  livst,  the  Doctor  gets  the 
largest  share  of  Mrs.  Warner  and  her  black  eyes; 
he  escapes  by  never  looking  up  while  she  is  car- 
rjing  on.  The  words  he  simply  hears.  Long 
habit  helps  him  there.  As  the  storm  lulls  he 
flatters — consciously,  awkwardly,  transparently 
flatters.  But,  then,  flattery  is  sweet;  and  here 
was  Mrs.  Warner's  only  source  thereof. 

So  that  when  his  wife  pressed  upon  him  the 
question  last  recorded,  one  being  asked  at  that 


period  over  every  table  at  the  South,  what  does 
the  Doctor? 

"  llusli,  Helen  ;  Sarah  out  there  might  hear. 
I'll  whisper,  that  is,  I'll  let  you  know  exactly 
what  I  really  think  and  feel,"  and  approacliing 
his  lips  cautiously  to  her  ear,  this  deceitful  prac- 
titioner pressed  a  rapid  kiss  upon  the  convenient 
cheek,  disengaged  his  arm,  and  was  gone. 

It  was  a  little  strange,  such  disastrous  news 
too,  but  it  was  the  first  time  Dr.  Warner  had 
kissed  his  wife  in  two  years ! 


TUB  ACTUOB  ATTEUrTINO  TO  UESCQIUE  bUMKUVILLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

It  strikes  me,  dear  reader,  that  every  writer 
ought  to  have,  from  the  outset  of  his  book,  a  per- 
fectly clear  understanding  with  his  reader.  You 
have  often  noticed  that  no  public  speaker  suc- 
ceeds in  what  he  has  to  say  nnlcss  there  be  such 
an  understanding  between  himself  and  his  audi- 
ence. And,  among  speakers,  he  is  an  orator  of 
the  highest  order  who,  from  the  0]x;ning  of  his 
lips  to  the  moment  he  ceases  to  speak,  is  on 
terms  of  the  closest  and  clearest  mutual  under- 
standing with  those  to  whom  he  addresses  himself. 

Now,  there  is  one  thing  in  which  I  will  venture 
to  crave  such  an  understanding  with  you,  dear 
reader.  I  can  not  describe.  You  will  catch  my 
meaning  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  sat  here 
some  ten  minutes  nibbling  at  the  end  of  my  pen- 
holder, desirous  of  describing  to  you  the  good 


u 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


town  of  Somerville  in  which  our  story  is  laid, 
and  find  it  impossible  to  do  so.  It  may  be  some 
step  toward  this  to  say  that  Somerville  is  situa- 
ted in  one  of  the  Southern  States.  Which  of 
these  States  it  may  be  in,  try  as  I  may  to  con- 
ceal it,  the  reader  will  be  certain  to  find  out  long 
before  he  reaches  the  last  page — it  will  slip  out,  I 
am  satisfied.  Each  State  has  its  own  distinct  in- 
dividuality, a  kind  of  personal  identity  which  im- 
presses itself  upon  each  one  of  its  children.  Now, 
I  have  reason  to  believe  that  I  could,  after  half 
an  hour's  conversation  with  a  stranger,  tell  him 
to  be  a  preacher,  if  he  was  one,  and  even  the 
very  denomination  of  which  he  is  a  preacher; 
and  so  if  he  be  lawyer,  doctor,  planter,  school- 
teacher, or  what  not.  So  of  State  identity. 
Throw  me  one  hour  with  a  man,  and  I  can  give 
a  shrewd  guess  whether  he  is  a  Southerner  or 
not ;  and  if  I  miss  it  in  naming  the  veiy  State 
at  the  South  of  which  he  is  a  native  it  will  be 
the  first  time.  And  yet  I  must  add  one  thing 
more,  that  the  whole  truth  may  be  told.  Very 
often  have  I  met  a  man  having  all  what  arc  gen- 
erally known  as  the  peculiarities  of  the  New  En- 
glander — reserve,  caution,  sharpness  in  trade, 
closeness  in  purse — and  yet,  who  had  never  been 
outside  of  his  native  South  in  his  life.  And 
often,  too,  have  I  been  pleasantly  associated  with 
one  having  all  the  opposite  peculiarities  of  the 
Southerner  —  frank,  cordial,  generous,  radiant 
with  every  noble  impulse — what  we  somewhat 
boastfully  claim  to  be  the  characteristics  of  a 
thorough-blooded  Southerner,  yet,  at  last,  born 
and  "raised"  among  the  snows  and  nutmegs, 
not  at  all  tropical,  of  New  England. 

The  truth  is,  we  of  these  American  States  are 
at  last  one  people.  Our  origin  and  historj^so 
far,  railways,  intermarriage,  and  other  powerful 
processes  of  approximation  and  assimilation  now 
working,  all  events  and  forces  past  and  present 
are  leavening  us  into  one,  and  that  altogether 
irrespective  whether  we  like  it  or  not.  Those  of 
us  who  look  upon  this  continent  from  the  point 
nearest  to  that  from  which  the  Almighty  regards 
it,  well  know  that  all  things,  even  the  most  un- 
like, are  leavening  our  millions  by  a  process, 
which  is  none  other  than  the  purpose  of  God,  into 
a  unity  infinitely  sublimer  than  any  thing  and 
every  thing  we  have  hitherto  expressed  by  the 
word  Union  !  You  know  this  already  ?  Well, 
but  let  me  say  it. 

However,  it  is  of  Somen-ille  we  are  now  at- 
tempting to  speak.  And  how  shall  it  be  de- 
scribed ?  To  say  it  contains  some  twelve  hun- 
dred people  leaves  but  a  vague  idea  upon  the 
mind.  Could  I  describe  a  river  as  meandering 
beside  it,  or  forests  as  engirdling  it,  or  mount- 
ains as  towering  above  it,  that  would  be  some 
help.  The  only  objection  to  this  is,  that  it  would 
not  be  the  truth — a  level,  post  oak,  sandy  plain 
is  its  location ;  no  mountains,  no  river,  and  but 
a  scrubby  forest. 


It  may  assist  us  to  say  that  Somerville  is  main- 
ly built  along  one  principal  street,  with  tributarj' 
streets,  like  rills  to  a  river,  emptying  into  it  on 
either  side.  The  court-house,  too,  should  be 
specified — a  square  brick  building  in  the  centre 
of  the  town.  But  why  should  one  feel  the  strong 
aversion  I  feel  for  that  gloomy  building  with  its 
brick-paved  floor  below,  its  well-worn  and  ex- 
ceedingly dirty  stairway,  its  breezy  court-room 
above,  its  yellow  walls  spangled  a  yard  up  from 
the  floorwith  tobaccojuice,  its bewhittled  benches 
and  hide-bottomed  chairs,  its  doors  and  posts  be- 
plastered  with  curt  SheriflPs  notices  half  print 
half  writing,  and  with  notices  of  cattle  lost,  writ- 
ten in  all  possible  varieties  of  spelling  and  gram- 
mar? 

The  architecture  of  the  four  churches  yields 
me  nothing  whatever  to  describe  in  regard  to 
them.  Places  of  worship  they  were — notliing 
else  and  nothing  more — having  in  many  respects 
a  painful  resemblance  to  the  dreary  court-house. 
And  yet  good,  sound,  practical  sermons  were  often 
delivered  in  one  and  all.  Sincere  worship,  too, 
as  ever  was  offered  in  stately  cathedral  and  tow- 
ering minster,  have  those  uninviting  houses  wit- 
nessed. Or,  if  there  ever  was  lack  of  fers'or  in 
the  morning  and  night  services  at  which  the 
white  population  attended,  it  was  more  than 
made  up  by  the  warmth  of  the  worship  on  Sun- 
day afternoons,  when  the  black  people  took  their 
turn  in  the  churches.  And  you  may  talk  as 
much  as  you  please  of  the  advantages  of  race 
and  education  in  all  respects,  I  defy  any  resident 
of  Somerville  to  deny  the  assertion,  that  the  prac- 
tical Christianity  of  the  colored  professors  of  re- 
ligion was  on  a  level  at  least  ^\-ith  that  of  the 
white  communicants  of  the  various  churches  in 
the  place.  Let  ns  not  mind  so  excessively  much 
about  our  color  and  condition  in  this  present 
world  in  other  regards;  if  religion  but  land  us 
safely  in  heaven  there  will  be  infinite,  divinest 
influences  operating  on  us  there,  with  an  eternity 
for  them  to  operate  in. 

Nor  will  we  say  any  thing  of  the  post-office, 
two  doors  off  from  the  principal  hotel ;  if  it  will 
help  us  on  to  say  that  Smithers  is  post-master  in 
the  one,  and  Staples,  Joe,  host  in  the  other,  let 
that  also  be  added ;  nor  of  the  dry-goods  stores, 
^vith  the  red  blankets  hanging  at  their  doors  ;  nor 
of  the  provision  stores,  sticky  with  sugar  and  mo- 
lasses, and  greasy  with  great  piles  of  bacon. 

I  was  aware  of  it  before  attempting  the  task ; 
it  is  impossible  to  describe  Somerville.  In  a 
journey  across  the  State  you  pass  through  a 
dozen  towns  just  like  Somerville ;  you  bear  away 
nothing  at  all  by  which  you  can  remember  it 
from  the  other  eleven ;  just  the  same  sort  of 
post-ofiice  at  which  the  stage  stopped  with  you 
to  give  out  and  to  take  in  the  mails,  just  the 
same  groups  idling  in  front  of  the  groceries,  just 
the  same  sort  of  tavern  at  which  you  snatch  your 
hasty  meal ;  like  beads  on  the  thread  of  your 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


16 


travel,  the  towns  seem  duplicates  of  each  other. 
But  there  is  to  Somerviilc  a  locus,  a  point  hav- 
ing the  same  relation  to  Somerville,  and  to  the 
county  of  which  Somerville  is  the  county  seat, 
even  to  the  State  in  which  Somerville  is  located, 
that  the  brain  has  to  the  body.  I  refer  to  the 
office  of  the  Somerville  Star. 

Imagine  a  two  story  frame-house,  not  very  far 
from  the  post-office.     True,  the  huge  sign-board 
on  which  is  written  Somerville  Slur  is  blown 
down,  but  then  tlie  largest  Jialf  of  what  remains 
has  been  stood  up  against  the  side  of  the  house 
on  an  end,  and  can  easily  be  deciphered  by  tliose 
who  already  know  what  is  inscribed  tiiereon. 
All  the  printing  is  done  up  stairs.     The  editor's 
room  you  enter  from  tlie  street,  on  the  first  floor. 
Nor  need  you  knock  ;  the  door  is  never  locked, 
and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  push  it  open,  if  it 
should  be  shut,  and  walk  in.     You  have  only  to 
introduce  yourself,  and  you  will  be  waved  by  tlie 
editor  to  a  seat  and  to  the  last  paper.     If  you 
are  any  body  of  importance,  from  any  where  out- 
side of  the  county,  a  Judge  say,  or  a  candidate 
of  the  same  views  as  Mr.  Lamum,  or  a  Colonel 
in  some  regiment  present  or  prospective,  you 
have  only  to  make  yourself  agreeable,  and  in 
the  next  number  of  the  Somerville  Star  you  will 
read  how  "greatly  gratified  we  were  by  a  visit 
from  our  excellent  friend,"  Colonel  this  or  Gen- 
eral that.     "  We  are  extremely  gratified  to  learn 
from  him,"  or,  "We  are  much  pained  to  be  in- 
formed by  him,"  and  then  you  will  read  the  in- 
formation you  may  have  incidentally  communi- 
cated to  the  editor ;  but  it  will  seem  to  you  when 
in  print  vastly  more  important  and  decided  in 
its  nature  than  yon  had  ever  dreamed  it  to  be  at 
the  time  you  mentioned  it. 

At  the  very  moment  Dr.  Warner  and  his  wife 
are  conversing  upon  the  news  of  the  night  be- 
fore at  their  breakfiist-tabie,  Lamum  and  Dr.. 
Peel  are  full  of  it  in  the  editorial  sanctum. 
This  is  not  strange,  however,  as  there  is  not  an 
individual  in  Somerville — in  the  whole  land,  in 
fact,  who  is  not  at  the  same  time  conversing 
upon  the  same  theme. 

"I  say,  Lamum,  between  us,  you  know,  what 
do  you  think  of  this  news?"  It  is  Dr.  Peel 
who  asks  the  question.  He  has  read  the  bit  of 
brown  paper  upon  which  it  is  printed  some  six 
times  over,  and  holds  it  to  read  several  times 
over  yet  before  he  is  done. 

"I  think.  Sir,  that  one  half  is  false  and  the 
other  half  is  exaggeration,"  replies  Mr.  Lamum, 
promptly.  He  has  printed  a  paper  too  long  not 
to  know  all  about  such  things.  We  call  him 
Mr.  Lamum.  The  fact  is,  he  is  called  Colonel 
Lamum  and  General  Lamum  and  Major  Lam- 
um indifferently.  Mr.  Lamum  by  very  few. 
Indulge  me  in  the  weakness  of  dropping  all  his 
titles^and  calling  him  simply  Lamum.  People 
never  called  him  any  thing  else  except  in  speak- 
ing to  him. 


An  undersized  man  is  Lamum.  He  may  be 
thirty,  and  he  may  be  fifty  years  old— you  can 
form  no  conclusion  on  the  matter  merely  by 
looking  at  him.  Excessively  lean ;  very  much 
stooped  in  the  shoulders;  face  very  pale,  and 
never  changing  color  under  any  possible  cir- 
cumstance;  nose  long  and  sharp;  thin  black 
hair ;  of  a  swift  gait  in  walking ;  prompt  and 
sharp  speech;  very  shabby  in  clothing — that  is 
the  man. 

Although  continually  associated  with  people 
that  do,  Lamum  never  smokes,  never  drinks, 
never  plays  a  game — at  least  of  cards.  You 
never  catch  him  in  a  billiard-room  or  doggery, 
unless  it  is  in  search  of  some  politician  to  be 
found  nowhere  else.  Lamum  rarely  enters  a 
church — never,  in  fact,  save  for  some  jiolitical 
reason,  such  as  to  hear  a  political  prayer  or  ser- 
mon. Yet  Lamum  swears  only  when  very  great- 
ly provoked.  No  one  has  ever  breathed  a  syl- 
lable against  him  as  a  husband.  In  regard  to 
his  various  pecuniary  transactions  his  enemies 
violently  assail  him  ;  but  then  his  friends  as  ve- 
hemently defend  him.  As  these  transactions 
are  enwound  in  lawsuits  without  number,  it  is 
impossible  to  decide  upon  them  in  advance  of 
the  jury. 

One  word  expresses  Lamum  from  his  earliest 
manhood  upward,  heart  and  soul,  body,  mind, 
and  spirit,  conversation  and  conduct — in  every 
respect  from  head  to  foot.  He  is  a  politician. 
Above  politics,  beneath  politics — if  it  had  any 
beneath — besides  politics  he  has  not  a  thought  or 
emotion.  All  his  reading  is  political  j)apers ;  he 
holds  no  conversation,  when  he  can  help  it,  ex- 
cept upon  political  topics.  He  knows  no  ties  to 
any  living  creature  except  political  ties.  As  to 
his  wife  he  sees  her  only  across  the  table  at 
meals,  or,  perchance,  asleep  in  bed  when  he 
comes  in  late  at  night.  Ilis  printer's  devils 
have  a  joke  that  all  his  courting  consisted  of  po- 
litical conversation  with  his  beloved — though 
why  she  married  him  Venus  would  have  to  ask 
of  all  the  gods  of  Olympus  to  ascertain  ;  perhaps 
Plutus  could  inform  her.  Certain  it  is,  all  of 
his  street  fights  have  been  with  political  foes. 
There  is  nobody  in  the  world — perhaps  his  wife 
excepted:  he  has  no  children,  he  has  no  time 
for  such  nonsense — loves  this  pale,  cold,  eager 
man. 

There  are  many  who  fear  him  throughout 
his  State  ;  but  oh,  how  unanimously  throughout 
the  State,  which  he  rules  with  his  pen,  is  ho 
hated  !  Robespierre — yes,  there  must  be  a  re- 
semblance between  the  very  appearances  of  the 
two  men.  Like  Robespierre  he  loves  politics 
not  for  the  office  or  profit  it  brings  him  so  much 
as  for  the  dry  sake  of  politics  itself.  vSome- 
thing  like  the  intense  fondness — not  so  much  of 
a  gambler  for  his  cards  as  of  a  chess-player  for 
his  mystic  game.  He  has  a  cold  yet  infinite  zest 
in  the  intrigue,  the  twisting  of  facts,  the  magni- 


16 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


fying  of  useful  nothings,  the  diminishing  of  dis- 
agreeable somethings — the  downright  lying,  tiie 
flattering,  the  bullying,  the  rewarding,  the  pun- 
ishing— the  wielding  of  Power,  that  is  it !  Robes- 
pierre had  liis  guillotine,  had  he?  Every  Sat- 
urday's SUtr  falls  like  an  axe  across  some  man's 
name  if  not  his  neck  !  Talk  about  the  unscru- 
pulous devotion  of  a  Jesuit  to  his  order! 

Let  it  suffice  to  be  said,  Lamum  was,  in  the 
most  exclusive  and  intense  sense  possible  to  the 
word,  a  Politician,  not  in  the  sense  of  a  stump- 
speaker.  Lamum  had  a  tiiin,  feeble  voice — he 
could  not  make  speeches,  never  tried.  But  his 
pen  !  Ah,  how  powerfully  he  spoke  through 
that !  And  how  he  ruled  with  it  hundreds  in 
every  county  in  the  State  who  did  mount  the 
stump. 

"Look  here,  General,"  says  his  companion 
yet  again,  "you  are  going  to  print  this  ridicu- 
lous dispatch,  are  you  ?  I  say,  you  will  fix  it 
up  in  your  paper?  You  know,  between  us,  it 
won't  do  exactly." 

"Hold  on  a  moment,"  says  Lamum,  who  has 
been  writing  rapidly  ever  since  he  entered  the 
office.  Dr.  Peel  resumes  his  brown  dispatch. 
A  large,  dark  man  is  Dr.  Peel.  What  you 
might  call  a  bulbous  forehead,  with  very  black 
hair  and  whiskers,  singularly  black.  Dr.  Peel 
possesses  deep  black  eyes  as  singularly  restless 
and  eager  in  their  motions.  Tlie  Doctor  has 
been  in  Somerville  but  a  few  months  ;  shortly 
before  the  blockade  was  established  over  the 
Southern  ports  he  arrived.  Dr.  Peel  has  long 
given  up  his  practice,  he  says — has  means  enough 
to  live. 

And  the  Doctor  has  means,  plenty  it  would 
seem — gold.  No  man  can  be  more  prompt  in 
paying  his  board  bill ;  nor  does  he  make  a  single 
debt  at  a  store,  though  he  is  continually  in  them, 
one  and  all,  and  purchases  freeh'.  The  Doctor 
is  partial  to  buggy-riding,  and  makes  it  a  point 
to  take  some  one  of  his  acquaintances  with  him 
whenever  he  drives  out.  Though  he  has  been  in 
Somerville  for  so  short  a  time  he  knows  every 
body.  Especially  is  he  hand  and  glove  with  Dr. 
Ginnis,  ISIr.  Neely,  Colonel  Roberts,  old  Mr.  Jug- 
gins, the  Rev.  Mr.  Barker,  Lamum,  and  the  rest 
of  the  genuine,  from-the-start,  out-and-out,  no- 
mistake  Secessionists.  Of  those  who  are  sus- 
pected of  being  Union  people  he  has  the  most 
unmitigated  horror. 

"  Thank  you.  Sir;  I  wish  to  have  nothing  to 
say  to  such  traitors" — he  remarks — "I'd  just  as 
lief  hang  them  as  eat  my  dinner."  He  has  fre- 
quently observed,  "I'd  put  an  ounce  of  lead 
through  them,  or  six  inches  of  cold  steel  into 
their  white  livers  and  black  hearts  as  quick  as 

take  a  drink,  Sir,  and  a sight  quicker!" 

and  here  his  hands  would  clench,  his  eyes  roll, 
and  he  would  curse  the  individuals  in  question 
with  a  species  of  frenzy  that  left  any  other  man 
far  behind. 


Not  a  war-meeting  of  any  sort  but  he  was  the 
first  to  be  present  and  the  last  to  leave,  the  loud- 
est to  applaud  and  the  largest  to  contribute.  On 
one  occasion,  at  least,  he  publicly  offers  from  his 
own  j)ocket  twenty  dollars  in  gold,  in  addition 
to  the  fifty-dollar  bounty,  to  every  man  that  will 
enlist  in  the  new  company  being  raised.  From 
the  earliest  hour  of  the  day  till  the  latest  mo- 
ment at  which  he  can  find  any  one  to  converse 
with  him,  he  has  but  one  toj)ic — Secession  and 
the  War.  He  can  not  cease  from  the  theme 
even  at  table.  It  is  confessed  that  he  is  stron- 
ger and  louder  and  more  violent  in  the  matter 
than  any  other  man  in  or  around  Somcnille. 
There  is  a  ferocity  of  manner,  a  recklessness  of 
assertion,  an  insanity  of  feeling  about  him,  which 
rather  cools  than  otherwise  the  most  violent  of 
his  associates. 

Considering  all  the  circumstances  of  his  ad- 
vent in  Somerville;  that  he  is  so  "flush  of 
money — not  paper-money,  but  gold.  Sir,  round 
twenty-dollar  pieces — Pll  be  hanged.  Sir,  if  I 
don't  believe — why,  the  man  has  no  occupa- 
tion here  at  all  but  talk  Secession  and  the  War 

— I'll  be ,  Sir,  if  I  don't  firmly  believe  that 

Dr.  Peel  is  a — "  And  here  the  voice  of  the 
speaker  is  sunk  into  a  whisper,  and  is  received 
with  a  start  and  an  oath  by  the  hearer :  such 
had  often  been  the  remark  made  in  Somerville. 

"There  is  my  trunk,  gentlemen,"  Dr.  Peel 
remarked  when  a  committee  visited  his  room  at 
Staples's  Hotel  to  investigate  matters.  "  Don't 
forget  the  lid  part  of  it,  please.  My  extra  coats, 
waistcoats,  and  breeches  are  hanging  on  the 
hooks  behind  my  door.  I  will  take  off  the 
clothes  I  now  have  on  also.  Don't  forget  those 
extra  boots  under  the  bed — might  have  papers 
in  the  linings  or  between  the  soles.  There  you 
see  my  revolvers  too ;  pair  of  bowie-knives  also 
— examine  the  scabbards,  gentlemen.  My  En- 
field rifle  stands  in  the  corner.  The  mattress, 
too,  and  the  books  on  the  table.  ftLakc  a  thor- 
ough search,  please." 

No  man  could  be  more  unembarrassed  than 
Dr.  Peel  by  the  visit  and  the  suspicion  which 
led  to  it.  One  would  have  supposed  that  he 
would  have  been  astonished  at  it,  resented  it, 
killed  some  one.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Dr.  Peel  was 
not  rufl[led  a  feather  by  any  thing  of  the  sort. 

There  had  been  some  singular  discrepancies 
in  the  Doctor's  statements  in  regard  to  the  place 
of  his  birth,  in  regard  to  his  having  correspond- 
ence with  his  "old  and  intimate  friend  Beaure- 
gard," which  he  "had  got  confoundedly  mis- 
laid" when  desired  to  produce ;  but  no  evidence 
could  be  found  against  the  Doctor  of  a  positive 
nature,  and  so  he  pursued  his  course  louder 
than  ever. 

It  was  a  little  singular,  however,  the  conduct 
of  Dr.  Peel,  after  having  politely  escorted  to  the 
door  of  his  chamber  the  committee  above  re- 
ferred to — Bob  Withers,  Simmons,  and  windy 


l>iblDE.— A  CllKUMlCLE  OF  bECEbSlUN. 


17 


Dr.  Ginnis  the  committee  were.  Seating  him- 
self, hnving  called  out  after  them  as  they  de- 
parted down  the  stejjs  the  last  friendly,  even 
cordial  good-morning,  with  his  hands  in  his  lap, 
foreli lifter  and  thiinib  arched  to  meet  forefinger 
and  llinnib,  he  fust  thought  it  over,  then  began 
to  smile,  at  last  rolled  himself  upon  his  bed,  fair- 
ly convulsed  with  laughter,  genuine,  unfeigned 
laughter,  sparkling  from  every  white  tooth, 
streaming  in  tears  from  his  eyes,  possessing  him 
and  shaking  his  burly  frame  from  head  to  foot. 

'"Going  to  the  war?  1  um  going,"  the  iJoc- 
tor  had  often  remarked,  in  answer  to  questions 
to  that  effect.  "Do  you  think  I'd  stay  away 
when  there  are  Yankees  to  be  killed?  No,  Sir. 
I  am  going ;  and  if  I  was  to  see  my  own  brother 
or  father  among  tlicm  I'd  .send  a  bullet  from  my 
rifle  here  through  their  hearts  first  ones.  Do 
you  think  money  could  pay  mo  to  stay  behind  ?" 
And  the  Doctor  would  proceed  to  curse  out  the 
rest  of  the  feelings  of  his  soul  on  the  subject  in 
a  way  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

And  yet  Dr.  Peel's  burly  form  was  still  to  be 
seen  in  every  store,  at  every  street  corner,  be- 
fore every  bar.  It  was  singular.  "Inconstant 
correspondence  with  the  military  authorities, 
Sir.  They  are  anxious  to  place  me  where  I  can 
do  most  for  the  glorious  cause."  Yet  months 
rolled  by;  the  Doctor  left  Somerville  often 
enough,  but  he  always  came  back  again  for  a 
fresh  start.     It  was  singular. 

But  Lamum  has  finished  writing.  "See  if 
this  will  do,"  he  says  to  Dr.  Peel;  and  he  pro- 
ceeds to  read : 

"THE  NEWS  OF  TUESDAY  NIGIIT. 

"Thank  IIe:iven!  we  know  our  readers  well  enough  to 
know  the  manner  in  which  they  received  the  news  of 
Tuesday  night,  of  which  much,  and  a  vast  dtal  too  much, 
baa  been  said.  In  the  first  place,  we  take  for  certain  that 
a  large  part,  if  not  every  syllable,  of  the  news  is  utterly 
fal.-'e.  Months  ago  the  North  was  taught,  and  tlie  entire 
world  was  taught,  for  time  and  for  all  eternity,  a  fact 
which  we  of  the  South  have  always  known  as  well  as  we 
know  our  alphabet — that  Northern  soldiers  fly  like  sheep 
at  the  very  appearance  of  our  brave  boys. 

"Is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  this  has  been  other 
than  the  case  at  Fort  Donelson  ?  Did  not  the  last  dis- 
patch distinctly  declare  the  utter  rout  of  the  Federal 
forces  assaulting  that  fort?  Hut  yesterday  we  were  re- 
joicing in  what  we  expected  as  a  matter  of  course — shall 
we  pay  the  least  attention  to-day  to  the  preposterous  lies 
which  have  come  to  our  ears?  We  feel  confident  our  in- 
telligent readers  will  treat  such  trash  with  the  contempt 
it  deserves. 

"  ICvcn  supposing  the  Federals  have  met  with  some 
slight  success  in  Tennessee,  it  is  but  for  a  moment.  At 
the  news  all  the  South  will  jiour  forth  its  legions  by  mill- 
ions, and  in  less  than  one  month  from  this  day  not  only 
will  the  Federal  armies  be  driven  back,  but  our  invinci- 
ble hosts  will  Ik!  thundering  at  the  g.ites  of  Cincinnati 
and  Chicago!  I>ooking  at  the  news  as  we  will,  iu  any 
case  we  find  in  it  ground  only  of  rejoicing.  Doubtless  be- 
fore this  our  Government  has  been  recognized  by  every 
nation  in  Europe,  hailing  with  enthusiastic  welcome  its 
advent  among  the  noblc-'t  nations  of  the  earth.  The 
N'>rth,  already  execrated  by  the  whole  civilized  world, 
can  not  endure  two  months  longer  its  enormous  expenses. 
For  what  we  know,  our  independence  has  bt^en  acknowl- 
B 


edged  by  the  North  even  while  wo  write  these  lines.  This 
we  will  say— ever  since  the  editor  of  this  sheet  could  pen 
a  line  has  he  striven  night  and  day  to  bring  about  Dis- 
uuiou;  from  his  very  cradle  was  it  the  warmest  aspira- 
tion of  his  soul;  its  consummation  is  the  pnnulest  rejoic- 
iug  of  his  life.  Of  the  establishment  of  tliis  nation,  and 
that  it  will,  from  its  very  estublishmint,  rank  second  to 
none  else  on  the  globe,  wo  uro  an  curtain  as  of  our  very 
existence  1" 

"Good  as  wheat!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Peel,  as 
the  editor  laid  down  his  blotted  sheet  on  the 
table. 

"Oh,  that  is  only  one  article!"  rejilied  the 
editor.  "I  will  have  a  dozen  like  it,  longer  or 
shorter,  in  the  next  number." 

"It's  good,  very  good,"  said  his  companion; 
"yet  it  seems  to  me  you  do  not  pepper  it  strong 
enough.  Why  don't  you  i)rint  as  I  tn/k,  as  you 
talk?  Pitch  in,  you  know;  lay  it  on  scalding 
hot.     You  don't  let  on  your  steam,  somehow." 

"If  I  did  I  would  siin))ly  burst  the  boiler. 
No,  Sir,"  said  this  Machiavelli;  "that  is  the 
blunder  other  editors  and  a// stump  speakers  are 
eternally  falling  into.  They  go  it  witli  too  much 
rusli — overdo  the  thing.  It  is  in  politics  as  it 
is  in  a  battle,  the  head-over-hcels  people  always 
get  the  whijiping.  It  is  the  cool,  deliberate  ones 
tliat  gain  the  victory.  I  show  myself  positive 
and  absolutely  certain ;  but  no  fuss,  no  fury. 
Strike  the  wedge  too  hard  and  it  bounces  out, 
you  know." 

At  this  moment  a  gentleman,  evidently  a 
country  planter,  entered  the  room.  The  editor 
hailed  him  as  Colonel  Juggins. 

"This  is  Dr.  Peel,  Colonel,"  he  added,  with 
a  wave  of  the  inky  hand  toward  his  companion. 
"Oh,  I  know  the  Doctor.  Many  a  good,  warm 
talk  we've  had  over  the  Yankees,"  said  the  Col- 
onel. "But  look  here,  General,"  he  continued, 
"what  about  this  news?  I  tell  you  things  is 
looking  squally :  this  cliild  came  mighty  nigh 
taking  a  scare." 

"You've  read  the  dispatch,  Colonel?"  asked 
the  editor,  indifferently. 

"Yes,  I  hev  read  that  doggoned  dispatch," 
said  his  visitor,  anxiously,  "and  I'm  mighty 
anxious  to  get  your  next  paper  to  see  how  you 
will  fix  it  up.  Fact  is,  I  couldn't  wait ;  I  thought 
1 7/mst  see  you  right  away.  I  want  to  know  what 
you  think  of  things  iioiv  T' 

"And  is  it  possible.  Colonel  Juggins,  that  a 
man  of  your  sense  can  ask  such  a  question,  and 
you  knowing  the  Yankees  as  well  as  you  do?" 
began  the  editor. 

"  Don't  know  nothin'  about  them  ;  never  was 
there  in  my  life ;  never  want  to  be,"  interrupted 
his  visitor.  Fact  is,  j'ou  and  Mr.  Neely  is  about 
all  the  Northern-born  people  I  ever  was  to  say 
intimate  with,  and  I  don't  supjiose  such  as  you 
are  fair  specimens  of  Northern  folks.  Yes,  I've 
known  a  lot  of  overseers  in  my  time  hailing  from 
the  North.  Gimini !  warn't  they  hard  on  the 
hands !     But  go  on.  General,  go  on  ;  I'm  anx- 


18 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ious  to  hear  what  sort  of  a  way  you  look  on  this 
here  news.     It's  hard  to  swallow,  I  tell  you !" 

"Well,"  continued  the  editor,  "  if  you  don't 
know  our  dastardly  enemies,  you  won't  pretend 
to  say  you  do  not  know  our  own  brave  boys?" 

"  I  know,  as  well  as  you.  General,  they'll  fight 
to  the  last  drop.     My  Tom  is  amonp  them.     I 


Pete  he  gets  drunk  all  the  time,  and,  what's 
more,  he  never  gets  sobe'r.  But  Pete's  all  ri;;ht 
on  the  goose — strong  for  Secession  I  tell  you. 
Another  thing  Pete  told  me :  he  knew  the  British 
had  recognized  us ;  he  ought  to  know,  he  said, 
since  he  came  from  one  of  the  British  islands 
himself.    Pete's  only  Pete,  but  he  cheered  me  up  a 


suppose  I  ought  to  know.     Fight !"  and  Colonel    heap.     However,  don't  let  me  interrupt  yon,  Gen 


Juggins  had  not  breath  left  to  say  more, 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  editor,  "you  know 
my  opinion  of  the  news." 

"Yes;  but  look  here.  Evacuated  Bowling 
Green,  didn't  they?  Besides,  what  can  the 
bravest  fellows  do,  supposin'  they  meet  over- 
whelmin'  numbers,  or  their  guns  won't  carry  as 


eral,"  added  Colonel  Juggins,  for  the  editor  had 
taken  his  pen  and  was  busily  engaged  writing. 

"  Make  yourself  at  home.  Colonel,  you'll  find 
plenty  to  encourage  you  in  the  jiapers,"  said  the 
editor,  never  taking  pen  from  ])aper  while  he 
spoke. 

Colonel  Juggins  ventures  on  the  first  of  the 


far  as  the  others,  or  they've  got  cowards  at  their  j  pile  of  papers, 
lead,  or  there's  traitors  about,  or  their  fodder 
gives  out,  or — " 

"If  you  will  listen  a  moment  I  will  let  you 
know  what  I  think,"  interrupted  the  editor;  and 
he  proceeded  to  read  aloud  the  leader  he  had 
just  written,  besides  one  or  two  more  to  the 
same  effect,  to  all  which  his  visitor  listened  with 
the  deepest  and  most  painful  attention. 

"  If  you  want  any  thing  further  to  set  your 
mind  completely  at  rest.  Colonel,"  continued 
the  editor,  "there  is  a  whole  pile  of  the  latest 
papers  lying  about  the  floor  there.  Read  them. 
Colonel,  see  what  they  say,  all  of  them !  You'll 
find  there's  not  a  paper  there  isn't  just  as  confi- 
dent as  I  am,  and  every  Southern  man  ought  to 
be." 

"Well,"  said  Colonel  Juggins,  with  a  glance 
of  dismay  at  the  quantity  of  newspapers  on  the 
floor,  but  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  "I  dare  say  it's 
all  right.  You  see  all  the  papers,  General.  Be- 
sides, you've  lived  at  the  North  and  ought  to 
know  the  sort  of  people  they  raise  there.  What 
fellows  they  are  to  make  things,  calicoes  and 
suchlike!  And  to  invent  machines,  too.  Reap- 
ers and  sewing  machines,  and  fifty  thousand  such 
contraptions.  I'm  glad  you  think  they  can't 
fight.  Now  we  are  in  it  you  see  we're  bound  to 
put  the  thing  through.  IMy  place  keeps  me  so 
hard  at  it,  breakin'  up  and  plantin",  and  cleanin' 
out  the  weeds  and  pickin',  and  ginnin',  and 
pressin'  all  the  year  round,  I  don't  hev  any  time 
to  examin'  into  things  at  all  deep  like.  One 
thing  brightened  me  up  a  little,''  continued  the 
old  planter,  as  he  settled  himself  to  read,  "Pete 
Shchan  fell  in  with  me  as  I  rode  into  town  this 
mornin'.  It  happened  so,  you  see.  Pete  said 
he  didn't  believe  one  word  of  this  doggoncd 
news.  If  the  truth  was  known,  says  Pete,  Beau- 
regard is  this  minute  in  Baltimore." 

"Who  is  Pete  Shehan  ?"  asked  General  Lam- 
ura. 

"  Well,  Pete  isn't  any  body  in  particular,  a  sort 
of  well-digger  like,"  answered  Colonel  Juggins. 
"Irish,  he  is.  He's  been  at  me  to  hev  him  dig 
a  well  or  two  the  hands  need  awful  bad  down  at 
the  quarters.     I  must  hev  them  wells,  but  then 


"  Don't  forget  to  give  it  to  those  Union  chaps 
this  week,"  remarked  Dr.  Peel  at  this  jimcttive. 
"I  tell  you  what,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "when  I 
got  that  news  last  night — I  was  sitting  up  till  it 
came  in — if  I  had  met  one  of  those  Union  men 
with  any  thing  like  a  glad  look  on  his  face  I'd 
killed  him  dead  on  the  spot.  If  I  had  met  one 
of  them,  I  believe  I'd  have  shot  him  down  any 
how,  I  was  so  savage." 

But  in  leaving  out  the  oaths  and  curses  with 
which  Dr.  Peel  garnished  his  remarks,  very  cold 
and  meagre  and  nnlike  the  Doctor's  diction  is 
this  record  thereof. 

"Look  here, Dr.  Peel,"  said  Colonel  Juggins, 
paper  in  hand,  "  I  don't  know  about  that.  Every 
body  knows  I'm  no  Union  man,  but  I  can't  cliime 
in  with  you  there.  Them  fellows  is  dreadful  mis- 
taken, but  they've  lived  here  longer,  some  of 
them,  than  any  of  us.  All  they  hev  in  the  world 
is  in  and  around  Somerville.  They  always  was 
opposed  to  this  here  move,  said  it  would  ruin 
the  country,  and  all  that.  They  ought  to  go  into 
the  thing  now  we  are  in  it,  I  know  ;  it's  a  shame 
they  don't.  But  we  mustn't  shoot  them  though. 
Almost  every  man  of  them  is  Southern  born  and 
raised ;  every  soul  of  them  owns  his  own  hands — "" 
"Don't  care,"  interrui)ted  Dr.  Peel,  with  a 
volley  of  oaths.  "There's  that  Guy  Brooks  to 
begin  with — " 

"Why,  Dr.  Peel,  Guy  owns  fifty  hands!"  put 
in  Colonel  Juggins. 

"  Don't  care  ;  he  is  from  Kentucky,  and  Ken- 
tucky is  as  rotten  as  East  Tennessee.  Then 
there  is  that  Parson  Arthur — " 

"Why,  what  has  he  been  doin'?"  asked  the 
old  planter,  with  amazement. 

"Nothing,  Sir,  nothing  at  all,  and  that  is  the 
very  reason  he  ought  to  be  looke<l  after.  Com- 
pare him  with  Parson  Barker !  You  find  Barker 
on  the  streets  all  the  week,  using  all  his  influence 
one  way.  Go  to  his  church  on  Sunday,  his 
sermon  from  one  end  to  the  other  is  the  best 
sort  of  stump  speech  I  ever  want  to  hear.  Did 
j'ou  ever  hear  one  of  his  prayers?" 

Colonel  Juggins  nodded  in  reply.  "  Oughter, 
one  of  his  members,"  he  added. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


19 


"I'LL  READ  YOU  ONE  ITEM  FOR  MY  NEXT  TAPER  YOU  MAY  LIKE." 


"  There's  a  prayer  for  you  ;  prays  for  the  Con- 
federacy, prays  for  Davis,  prays  for  our  army, 
prays  for  victory — and  it's  worth  going  ten  miles 
to  hear  that  man  pray  for  the  defeat  and  tlic 
utter  destruction  of  the  Federals!"  and  the  Doc- 
tor scaled  his  cordial  approbation  of  the  Rever- 
end Mr.  Barker's  prayers  with  the  most  em- 
jihatic  oaths  in  his  possession. 

"  Pars(jn  Arthur,  I  suppose  you  know,"  said 
the  jdanter,  "was  born  and  raised  at  the  South. 
Barker  has  his  way  of  doin'  up  things,  Parson 
Arthur  is  different.  When  we  had  that  hurly- 
burly  about  Know  Nothin'ism,  Artiiur  he  kept 
clear  of  it,  though  they  lied  about  him  then  a 
heap ;  staid  inside  of  his  pulpit  like.  Brother 
Barker,  you'll  remember — no,  you  won't  remem- 
ber, you  were  not  here.  Doctor,  the  General  will, 
though — Brother  Barker  he  pitched  in,  went  all 
over  the  country  organizin'  the  Know  Nothin' 
lodges.  He  preached  Know  Nothin'ism,  prayed 
Know  Nothin'ism !  Oh,  Brother  Barker  he  is  a 
full  team,  specially  on  a  cam])  ground  where 
things  is  full  blast.  Parson  Arthur,  he  is  ditfer- 
ent.  Old  Master  didn't  make  him  that  sort ; 
he's  quiet,  sober-like.  However,  mornin',  gen- 
tlemen; mustbegoin';  ain't  much  of  a  hand  read- 
in'  papers,  specially  where  there's  so  many.  Glad 
to  learn  from  you,  General,  things  ain't  as  bad 


as  I  feared.  But  they  did  look  a  little  squally 
like.  You  see,  I'm  from  old  Tennessee  myself, 
and  all  that  about  Nashville  took  me  back. 
Maury  County  I  was  from.     Good-mornin'." 

"Hold  on,  Doctor,  one  moment,"  said  the 
editor,  as  that  individual  was  about  to  follow 
the  planter.  "I'll  read  you  one  item  for  my 
next  paper  you  may  like.     Listen  :" 

"IMPORTANT  NEWS! 

"We  stop  our  press  to  announce  news  which  we  well 
know  will  thrill  every  patriot  bopom  with  joy.  We  have 
just  had  a  visit  from  a  higlily  reliable  gentleman  on  his 
way  through  our  place.  He  called  to  inform  us  that  he 
hud  been  credibly  informed  on  his  way  to  Somerville  that 
the  news  of  Tuesday  night,  which  created  such  an  un- 
necessary sensation  in  our  midst,  is,  as  we  supposed  it  at 
the  time  to  be,  utterly  false!  The  gentleman  from  whom 
he  derived  his  information  was  reliably  iufonned  also, 
before  seeing  him,  that  Rcauregard  is  in  full  possession  of 
r.altimore.  It  is  believed  tliat  the  Federals  fled  at  his  ap- 
proach in  utter  confusion,  and  that  iamicnse  stores  to  the 
value  probably  of  millions  have  fallen  into  his  hands.  If 
this  be  so,  our  next  news  will  be  of  I'.eauregard  in  posses- 
sion of  Washington!     He  m.ay  be  there  even  as  we  write! 

"The  same  gentleman  also  informed  our  friend  that 
there  is  no  longer  any  doubt  of  the  fact  that  the  Confed- 
eracy has  h(  en  acknowledged  certainly  by  England,  and, 
probably,  by  all  the  other  powers  of  Europe.  The  gentle- 
man who  imparted  this  news  is  himself  from  England  di- 
rect, and  one  who  has  had  access  to  the  highest  circles, 
lieing  a  foreigner,  liis  cordial  s>Tiipathy  in  our  great  revo- 
lution, impartial  as  it  must  be,  ia  but  an  indication  of  the 


20 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


universal  interest  on  our  behalf  now  felt  over  tlie  whole 
civilized  world.  We  give  this  newa  as  we  hesird  it,  but 
we  thiuk  our  readers  may  rely  confidently  upon  ita  truth  1" 

"Why,  General,  how  did  you  get  it?  when 
did  it  come?  why  didn't  yon  tell  me  of  it  be- 
fore ?"  asked  Dr.  Peel  before  his  comjmnion  was 
well  through,  and,  miiigkd  witii  iiis  oatlis,  there 
was  a  singular  nervousness  of  manner  which 
strongly  resembled  anxiety. 

"You  heard  it  yourself  from  Juggins,"  an- 
swered the  editor  coolly,  even  inditt'erently. 

"  What !  his  talk  aiwut  I'ete  what's-his-name  ? 
Come,  General,  you  don't  mean  to  say — " 

"Hush  your  racket.  Peel,"  said  the  editor 
rather  testily,  while  his  friend  indulged  himself 
in  convulsions  of  laughter  mingled  with  hearty 
swearing. 

"Lamum,  you  are  a  genius!"  exclaimed  he 
at  length,  wiping  his  eyes,  and  emphasizing  his 
opinion  with  a  string  of  oaths. 

"But  how  if  Juggins — ?"  he  began  to  ask. 

"Do  you  suppose  the  old  codger  will  ever  rec- 
ognize it  as  being  his  information?"  replied  the 
editor,  coolly. 

"Recognize  it,  certainly  not!"  replied  the 
Doctor,  hastily.  "Oh,  but  you  manufacturers 
of  public  opinion  are  geniuses !  I  never  was  ex- 
actly so  close  among  the  machinery  before.  And 
then  this  item  of  yours  will  be  cojiied  in  all  the 
rest  of  the  papers,  with  their  favorable  comments 
upon  it !  I  see !  But  I  say,  Lamum,  ain't  you 
afraid  occasionally  ?" 

"Are  you  fool  enough  not  to  know  that  what- 
ever appears  in  a  paper  to-day  is  knocked  com- 
pletely out  of  the  minds  of  the  people  by  what 
will  come  out  in  it  to-morrow  ?  It's  with  all 
sort  of  shavings  we  keep  the  pot  boiling.  Search 
those  papers,"  continued  the  editor,  pointing  at 
the  heaps  of  them  which  covered  table,  floor, 
and  chairs  of  his  very  dirty  and  disorderly  of- 
fice, "and  you  will  find  they  are  made  up  of 
just  such  items.  They  originate  now  here,  now 
there,  and  all  the  rest  copy  them,  comment  on 
them,  swell  them.  The  people  read  at  little 
else  all  the  time.  Must  do  it.  Sir;  we've  got 
into  this  war,  and  we  have  to  fight  our  way  out 
of  it !  They  beat  hollow  drums  and  blow  brazen 
trumpets  to  urge  them  on  when  in  battle — we 
editors  behind  here  among  the  people  are  doing, 
in  our  way,  exactly  the  same  thing.  We  are  in 
for  it!  Any  thing  is  better  than  the  old  Union. 
That  we  determined  should  go  to  smash — we 
don't  care  what  comes  so  that  is  down.  '  Re- 
gardless of  all  possible  consequences,'  was  what 
Calhoun  said ;  that  is  the  flag  we  sail  under — 
our  motto  in  place  of  old  E  Pluribus  Unum ! 
I  believe  in  what  Pryor,  and  John  Tyler's  son 
there  in  Virginia,  and  all  the  rest  of  them  say — 
any  thing  on  earth  so  that  the  accursed  old 
Union  goes  to  hell !" 


COLONEL   JUUUINS  OOISQ   UOME. 


CHAPTER  in. 

CoLONT.L  Juggins  emerged  from  the  office  of 
the  Somerville  Star  like  an  honest  blue-bottle 
fly,  only  he  carried  away  a  good  deal  of  the 
cobweb  about  him  out  of  the  den  of  a  spider. 
And  very  much  better  the  Colonel  felt  in  leav- 
ing it  than  when  he  entered  its  door. 

When  he  heard  of  the  investment  of  Fort  Don- 
elson  by  the  Federal  forces,  never  had  the  Col- 
onel been  more  certain  of  the  rising  of  the  sun 
to-morrow  than  he  was  of  the  repulse  and  de- 
struction of  the  Yankees.  When  the  news  ar- 
rived that  the  fort  had  actually  capitulated,  that 
the  Confederate  forces  had  failed  to  make  a  stand 
even  at  Nashville,  it  fell  upon  his  ears,  and  upon 
those  of  very  many  like  him,  more  like  the  tid- 
ings of  some  great  phenomenon,  some  unprec- 
edented interruption  of  the  laws  of  nature  itself, 
than  merely  as  the  news  of  battle  and  defeat. 

The  instant  and  most  painful  impression  was 
— Good  Heavens !  if  we  have  been  defeated — 
we  of  the  South — defeated  once,  what  may  not 
happen  hereafter?  The  truth  is,  the  events  of 
the  war  so  far  had  settled  the  common  mind  in 
Somerville,  and  throughout  the  South,  in  the 
fixed  conviction  of  that  which  had  always  been 
a  decided  opinion,  that  Northern  troops  could 
not  stand  before  Southern.  True,  Bowling 
Green  had  been  evacuated,  but  that  was  easily 
explained  ;  it  was  a  splendid  stratagem  to  draw 
the  Federal  troops  further  South,  and  so  make  a 
total  finish  of  them  ! 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


21 


Future  historians  will  write  Manassas  as  the 

Waterloo  of  the  Confcdfracy.  The  cup  of 
Southern  victory  there  drunk  was  followed  by  a 
degree  of  intoxication  to  the  South,  of  a  greater 
than  which  history  has  no  instance.  As  has 
been  said  before,  tlie  universal  oi>inuin  at  the 
South  of  Southern  invincibility  had  hardly  need 
of  any  tiling  to  establish  it,  and  Manassas  petri- 
fied that  ojiinion  into  granite  certainly. 

Nor  did  the  events  following  Maniussas  fail  to 
increase  this  certainly,  had  siicli  increase  been 
possible.  iSo  thoroughly  settled  was  the  South- 
ern mind  upon  the  whole  subject  that  the  vague 
news  of  Northern  preparation  going  on  excited 
little  or  no  interest.  The  same  sentiment  jjos- 
scssed  alike  the  people,  the  press,  and  the  offi- 
cials— at  least,  from  no  quarter  was  heard  a  syl- 
lable but  to  the  same  note.  Any  one  who  had 
hinted  otherwise  would  have  been  marked  as 
but  a  poor  creature,  unsettled  in  his  wits  by  an 
absurd  attachment  to  the  Union,  which  ought 
to  bo  regarded  as  traitorous,  if  it  were  not  so 
heartily  despised  as  contcmjjtible. 

Even  the  most  firm  among  the  Union  men 
were  beginning  to  settle  themselves  down  to 
what  seemed  the  will  of  Heaven — casting  about 
to  make  the  best  of  an  inevitable  matter.  Nor 
is  all  this  to  be  wondered  at,  when  it  is  remem- 
bered how  successfully  all  intelligence  from  the 
North  was  excluded  from  the  South.  By  a  most 
mistaken  policy,  the  Southern  press  copied  from 
the  Northern  and  European  papers,  as  a  general 
rule,  only  that  which  was  favorable  to  the  South. 
It  was  more  than  human  to  withstand  an  influ- 
ence so  unmingled  and  universal. 

True,  as  to  the  inherent  and  unchangeable 
right  and  wrong  of  the  matter,  the  minds  of 
Union  men  were  unchanged ;  but  they  had  be- 
gun to  bow  to  the  thing  as  to  a  Providence  too 
mysterious  to  be  understood — a  thing  in  which 
nothing  remained  but  submission  to  the  will  of 
God — fate,  destiny,  whatever  it  was  to  be  called. 
People  in  the  Border  States  may  have  been  less 
astonished,  but  to  the  people  of  the  States  far- 
ther South,  thunder  from  a  cloudless  sky  is  less 
startling  than  were  the  tidings  that  Federal 
gun-boats  had  actually  run  up  the  Tennessee  to 
Florence,  that  Fort  Henry  was  taken,  that  Fort 
Donelson  had  fallen,  that  Nashville  had  capitu- 
lated !  The  dominant  feeling  was — bewilder- 
ment. 

"My  dear  Helen,"  Dr.  Warner  remarked  to 
his  wife,  in  a  calm  which  had  followed  one  of 
his  domestic  tempests,  "you  may  depend  on  it, 
and  your  own  clear,  strong  sense  will  say  yes  to 
me  in  it,  truth  is  much  the  best  plan.  Frank- 
ly and  truthfully,  from  the  first,  with  my  pa- 
tients is  my  plan.  They  have  confidence  in  me 
then  ;  they  are  sure  to  follow  my  prescriptions 
faithfully.  There  is  a  mutual  understanding 
between  us;  no  miserable  dodging  and  deceiv- 
ing on  either  side ;  and,  w  hatever  the  result  is,  ', 


we  at  least  know  that  all  has  been  done  from 
the  start  tliat  could  be  done.  The  South  has 
been  grossly  deceived  by  its  doctoi's,  1  mean  its 
leaders,  from  the  first." 

"Yes,  you  always  hated  Secession,"  broke  in 
the  partner  of  his  bosom,  the  canal-gates  open- 
ing. 

"  I  was  not  speaking,  just  then,  of  Secession, 
but  of  the  course  pursued  since  then;  but  it  is 
all  of  a  piece.  Either  our  political  doctors  were 
themselves  all  deceived,  or  tluy  lUiibeiateJy  and 
systematically  deluded  the  unfortunate  peojile 
who  had  been  east  into  their  hands,"  observed 
the  mi  111  physician. 

"Went  it  blind,  ma,"  said  Bub,  who  was 
making  a  kite  on  the  floor  beside  his  parents, 
and  who  could  not  possil)ly  iiave  been  the  child 
of  quick-witted  Mrs.  Warner  and  not  have  been 
himself  smart. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Bub!"  broke  in  his  mo- 
ther. "Nice  thing.  Dr.  Warner,"  she  continued, 
"you  are  not  satisfied  not  to  be  a  whole-souled 
Southern  man  yourself;  you  are  poisoning  even 
the  mind  of  your  own  child.  I  have  no  patience 
with  you,  Dr.  Warner — cool,  slow,  patient  sub- 
missionist  you  are  !  The  very  idea  of  giving  up 
to  those  vile  Yankees !  Before  I'd  do  it  Id  die 
a  thousand  times  over !  You  laugh  at  old  Col- 
onel Juggins,  I  know ;  but  if  he  is  a  coarse,  ig- 
norant, old  man  I  only  wish  to  goodness  you 
were  as  hearty  in  the  war  as  he  is !  He  was  al- 
ways wondering  what  Johnson  was  doing,  stay- 
ing there  at  Bowling  Green,  when  he  ought 
to  have  been  across  the  river  into  Ohio.  And 
Davis,  and  the  rest  of  them,  lying  tlicre  not 
more  than  twenty  miles  from  Washington,  month 
after  month,  instead  of  marching  right  on,  tak- 
ing Washington,  catching  and  hanging  old  Lin- 
coln. Set  of  cowards!  You  men  are  all  alike. 
Oh,  if  I  was  only  a  man  !" 

"What  would  you  do  if  you  were  a  man?" 
asked  her  impassive  husband. 

"  Do !  I'd  raise  fifty  thousand  brave  men, 
lead  them  right  on  into  the  North,  burn  every 
house,  batter  down  every  town,  kill  every  man 
I  could  !  I  tell  you,"  said  thin  Mrs.  Warner,  her 
black  eyes  sparkling,  "  I'd  kill  and  burn  and 
cut  their  throats  till  they'd  be  glad  enough  to 
make  peace  with  us.  That's  what  Mrs.  Bowles 
and  Dr.  Ginnis  say.  Instead  of  that,  they  are 
evacuating  Bowling  Green — running  away,  I  call 
it — and  Davis  there  in  twenty  miles  of  Wash- 
ington and  not  going  right  on!  Next  thing," 
continued  Mrs.  Warner,  with  bitter  sarcasm. 
"  we'll  read  some  morning  the  precious  news 
that  they  have  evacuated  Columbus — even  Ma- 
nassas !" 

"My  dear,"  said  Dr.  Warner,  helping  him- 
self to  another  slice  of  ham — for  they  were  at 
dinner  on  the  same  day  as  that  in  which  we  first 
introduced  them  to  the  reader — "my  dear,  I  do 
firmly  believe  that  if  you  were  a  man  you  wculd 


22 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


succeed  vastly  better  than  nine-tenths  of  our 
men.  But  we  have  to  take  them  as  we  find 
them.  However,  if  you  were  a  man  I  would 
have  missed  the  most  active  and  excellent  wife 
in  the  world,  and  Somerville  the  best  house- 
keeper going !" 

And  it  was  only  the  fact ;  Mrs.  Warner  was 
the  neatest  housekeeper  in  Somerville  ;  as  to  the 
other  the  Doctor  lied,  and  he  knew  it. 

But  it  was  of  Colonel  Juggins  we  intended  to 
speak  in  entering  upon  this  chapter.  Slowly 
rode  the  Colonel  home  meditating  upon  the 
news.  Lamum  and  Laraum's  pile  of  newspa- 
pers had  relieved  his  mind  somewhat,  but  not 
entirely.  There  is  a  certain  mysterious  assur- 
ance which  a  fact  always  carries  with  it  wher- 
ever it  flies :  you  may  deny  it  loudly,  you  may 
hate  it  heartily;  but  when  a  fact  comes  to  the 
ear,  the  mind  receives  it  as  such  by  some  mystic 
affinity  as  a  fact — recognizes  it  by  spontaneous 
appetite  as  the  palate  recognizes  its  natural  food. 
As  well  as  he  knew  his  name  did  Lamum  know 
that  the  disastrous  news  from  Fort  Donelson  was 
true.  Dr.  Feel  knew  it.  Even  Colonel  Jug- 
gins knew  it — acknowledge  it?  no — yet  none 
the  less  every  body  knew  it  to  be  true.  It  was 
as  if  the  sun  had  varied  from  his  path.  Gra- 
cious Heavens,  what  might  not  be  the  next 
news ! 

Somehow,  before  he  alighted  from  his  horse 
at  home — some  five  miles  from  Somerville — all 
Lamum's  consolation  had  been  dissipated  from 
his  mind,  and  the  ugly  news  remained  in  all  its 
hideous  reality.  The  Colonel  belonged  to  one 
of  the  three  classes  into  which  all  slave-owners 
at  the  South  may  be  divided.  As  a  representa- 
tive man  of  this  class  let  us  say  a  word  or  two 
in  regard  to  the  Colonel. 

Tom  Juggins  was  the  son  of  a  rich  Tennessee 
planter.  There  had  been  six  or  eight  cliildren 
in  all,  but  what  with  being  thrown  from  unbroken 
colts,  and  cholera  morbus  from  eating  green  wa- 
ter-melons, and  chills  and  fevers,  one  by  one  all 
the  children  had  died  except  Tom.  As  to  him, 
he  doubtless  owed  his  special  strength  of  consti- 
tution to  the  fact  that  he  had  been  suckled  from 
his  very  birth  by  a  negro  "mammy."  In  that 
mammy's  cabin  passed  the  days  of  his  infancy, 
his  mother  being  a  confirmed  invalid,  and  his 
father  having  an  unfortunate  habit  of  sjjending 
in  town  and  in  intoxication  pretty  much  all  the 
time  he  could  spare  from  field  and  cotton-house. 
On  the  earth  floor  of  his  mammy's  house  Tom 
learned  to  walk,  and  around  the  chicken-coops 
in  front  of  it  were  spent  his  first  hours  of  play. 

In  her  way  never  child  had  a  more  loving  mo- 
ther than  Tom  had  in  his  mammy,  preferring 
him,  as  she  decidedly  did,  to  all  of  her  own  dark 
brood.  And  a  very  paradise  of  childhood  Tom 
had  of  it ;  permitted  to  get  as  dirty  as  he  pleased, 
very  little  washing,  and  no  switching  whatever. 
Nor  was  his  childhood  less  auspicious  as  it  ad- 


vanced into  older  years.  With  a  troop  of  little 
blacks  at  his  heels  he  haunted  the  calf  lot  and 
stable-yard,  worrying  the  calves,  riding  the  horses 
to  water  "bare-back,"  bunting  and  eating  all 
the  eggs.  With  his  allies  to  back  him  did  he 
I  stone  the  cats  and  the  birds,  clip  the  tails  and 
ears  of  the  i)Uppies,  kill  the  snakes,  j)addle  in  the 
spring,  and  climb  the  trees.  Among  his  sable 
t  associates,  loo,  did  he  learn  and  practice  many 
a  vice  ])eculiar  to  their  semi-savage  nature  and 
easily  ingrafted  into  his. 

I  In  due  time  Tom  was  sent  to  school ;  yet  it  was 
very  little  Tom  learned.  What  with  playing 
truant,  and  "  barring  out"  the  schoolmaster,  and 
holidavs  occasionally,  and  idleness  all  the  time, 
it  was  very  little  Tom  learned  beyond  reading, 
writing,  and  the  beginning  of  ciphering. 

The  rest  of  the  story  is  soon  told.  After  a 
youtli  of  breaking  horses,  and  swimming  and 
hunting,  and  accompanying  the  cotton-wagons 
occasionally  to  the  nearest  city,  and  frolicking  a 
little  at  weddings  and  corn-shuckings,  Tom  fell 
in  love  with  and  married  a  neighbor's  daughter, 
and  settled  down.  The  deatli  of  his  parents  not 
very  long  after  devolved  the  "Place,"'  with  all  its 
negroes,  on  his  hands,  and  Tom  went  to  work 
ginning  cotton  and  selling  it  as  his  fathers  did 
before  him.  The  old  log-houses  in  which  his  fa- 
ther lived  did  well  enough  for  him.  True,  he 
did  once  take  a  notion  to  build,  had  vast  quan- 
tities of  stone  and  sand  and  lumber  hauled  for 
the  purpose ;  but  something  or  other  turned  up 
j  to  postpone  the  matter,  and  there  the  heaps  of 
'  materials  continued  to  lie,  an  admirable  lurking- 
place  for  snakes,  laying  place  for  hens,  and  play- 
ing-ground  for  the  swarms  of  little  negroes,  till 
j  winds  and  rain  and  towering  weeds  had  made  a 
medieval  ruin  of  the  whole. 

I      Year  after  year  in  a  row  of  wretched  cabins 
I  did  Tom,  now  Colonel  Juggins,  continue  to  live, 
as  contented  in  his  house  as  any  hand  in  his  lit- 
tle inferior  hut  hard  by.    He  had  become  accus- 
,  tomed  to  bobbing  his  head  in  passing  through 
'  the  low  doorways,  to  walking  over  the  rolling 
'  puncheon  planks  which  composed  the  floors.    As 
;  to  the  roof,  a  clap-board  or  two  could  be  nailed  on 
in  half  a  minute  to  keep  out  the  worst  of  the  rain, 
and  a  rock  or  so,  with  a  handful  of  mud,  could 
close  up  the  worst  of  the  cracks  between  the  logs 
of  the  wall.    Abundantly  able  to  build  a  stately 
'  mansion,  the  Colonel  saw  little  in  his  limited 
j  travels  to  awaken  desire  for  any  thing  beyond 
what  he  already  was  so  accustomed  to.    Besides, 
,  the  Colonel  was  fat. 

And  so  rolled  the  years  by  with  Colonel  Jug- 
gins. Hardly  would  he  do  as  a  specimen  of 
the  terrible  slaveholder  of  excited  imaginations. 
Such  there  are,  but  not  of  that  class  was  this  Col- 
onel. His  dwelling  was  first  cousin  to  the  woret 
which  any  slave  on  the  place  occupied.  His 
clothing  was  rather  inferior  than  otherwise  to 
the  Sunday  suits  of  his  men.     As  to  his  daily 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


23 


food,  it  wns  about  the  same  in  house  and  in  hut. 
Very  often,  in  fact,  wns  Mrs.  Juggins  ghid 
enough,  when  company  uncxiicctedly  came,  to 
borrow  of  some  of  their  "people"  the  honey, 
poultry,  eggs,  or  butter  with  which  to  eke  out 
the  dinner. 

True,  the  Colonel  voted  and  his  hands  were 
denied  that  inestimable  luiiipincss;  hut,  then,  the 
Colonel  knew  very  little  mure  at  last  about  the 
principles  voted  for  or  against  than  they  would 
have  done.  The  Colonel,  having  all  the  respons- 
ibility and  bother  of  the  '-riace,"  was,  upon  the 
whole,  much  the  lettst  hapi)y  man  on  it,  and,  as 
to  his  religious  principles,  if  he  was  a  church- 
member,  so  was  almost  every  one  of  liis  grown 
hands,  and  they  had  the  opportunity  of  receiving 
just  as  much  and  as  good  religious  instruction 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  as  he. 

There  are  two  other  classes  of  slave-owners, 
each  as  distinct  from  the  other  as  his  is  from 
both.  The  Yankee  owner  of  slaves,  Mr.  Neely 
for  instance,  and  the  aristocratic  slaveholder, 
Colonel  Ket  Roberts  as  a  specimen.  Of  them 
we  will  speak  hereafter.  I  am  altogether  un- 
willing to  say  that  the  Colonel's  is  the  largest 
class,  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  because  I  am  not 
entirely  certain  that  it  is  so. 

"  What  I've  got  to  say  is  this  :  why  can't  they 
just  stay  at  home  where  they  are,  mind  their 
own  matters,  and  let  us  alone."  That  was  Mrs. 
Juggins's  opinion  in  regard  to  the  war.  She 
always  mentioned  it  at  table  when  company  was 
present  and  the  war  the  topic.  With  her  it  was 
a  plain,  common-sense  solution  of  the  whole 
matter,  embracing  the  whole  thing  entirely  and 
conclusively.  "We  are  not  going  where  tliey 
live,  and  bothering  them !  Why  cavtt  they  let 
us  alone !" 

But  since   the  Yankees  u-ould  come   South 
"with  their  guns   and   things,"  Mrs.  Juggins 
yielded  to  the  necessity  of  sending  Tom,  their 
only  son,  to  help  drive  them  back.     In  her  idea 
it  was  an  operation  precisely  like  having  the 
chickens  driven  out  of  the  garden— troublesome, 
but  not  very  dangerous.     Often  had  Mrs.  Jug- 
gins hoard  the  plan  suggested  of  building  a  wall 
around  the  South,  over  which  no  Yankee  was 
ever  to  intrude.     It  was  intended  as  metajihor, 
but  Mrs.  Juggins  adopted  it  as  highly  feasible. 
The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Juggins  was  the  duplicate  of 
the  Colonel.     Had  you  been  introduced  to  the  ! 
Oalonel,  and  an  hour  after  met  his  wife  in  a 
store,  say  for  the  first  time,  you  would  have  said 
on  the  spot:    "There  is  Mrs.  Juggins,  and  I 
know  it !"     Both  bore  in  weight  about  the  same 
relation  to  two  hundred  jjounds,  both  had  the 
same  large,  red,  good-humored  country  face.     It 
was  little  education  Mrs.  Juggins  had  when  she 
married,  and  she  certainly  had  seen    time  for 
nothing  except  the  management  of  the  negroes 
and  of  her  fast  coming,  fast  going  too,  as  for 
that,  children  since  that  event.     Except  an  al- 


manac, a  Bible,  and  a  hymn-book  or  two,  there 
was  no  reading  in  tiieir  house  save  the  papers. 

Of  those  that  he  took  the  Colonel  decidedly 
preferred  his  religious  paper,  which,  while  it 
gave  him  all  the  news  of  his  church,  gave  him 
also  Secession  in  its  moral  and  religious  asjject. 
But,  ye  Heavens !  why  is  it  that  the  mere  say 
so  of  a  mortal  has  so  much  more  weight  and 
force  when  printed  than  it  has  when  only  spoken  ? 
No  mistake  about  tliat  jiaper  ! 

Never  m  his  life  could   the  Cidoncl  read  a 
j)a])er,  or  any  thing  else,  except  aloud  and  very 
slowly.     In  consequence  of  this  liis  w  ife  managed 
to  get  her  news  without  much  troiil)le  on  her 
part.     Every  syllabic  was  believed  by  the  Col- 
onel as  he  read  it,  and  by  his  wife  with  a  double 
faith,  because  of  the  fact  that  it  came  to  her 
from  the  lips  and  backed  by  the  comments  and 
assurances  of  her  husband.     If  angels  are  jier- 
mitted  to  hover  over  mortals,  one  would  tlimk  the 
very  tongues  of  such  visitants  would  have  strug- 
gled to  speak  out  and  ai)prise  this  poor  Colonel 
Juggins  and  his  wife  of  the  enormous  falsehoods 
which  they  fed  upon  thus  from  day  to  day  with 
such  a  pitiful,  implicit  belief.     But  no  ;  the  Col- 
onel and  his  wife  then  in  their  cabins  were  but 
representatives  of  millions  at  the  South — millions 
willing  to  know  and  to  do  the  right,  yet  so  sys- 
tematically, so  aw  fully,  so  utterly  blinded  !     To 
keep  them  apprised  of  the  arts  by  which  they 
were  deluded  would  have  withheld  the  heavenly 
guardians  from  all  the  enjoyments  of  bliss  in 
unintermitting  activity.      Ah,  how  even  angel 
bosoms  must  have  heaved  to  smite  witli  flaming 
swords  the  guilty  authors  of  the  gigantic  delu- 
sion !     How  jjatient  is  God  !     And  if  the  inhab- 
itants of  heaven  know  wiiat  goes  on  upon  earth, 
largely  must  they  be  partakers  of  this  attribute 
of  the  divine  nature — else  would  heaven  cease 
to  them  to  be  heaven,  at  least  so  long  as  earth 
continues  to  sin  and  to  suffer  beneath  it. 

It  was  an  immense  relief  to  Colonel  Juggins, 
as  he  entered  the  door  of  his  house,  to  find 
Brother  Barker  there.  Pete  Shehan  had  as- 
sisted him  in  regard  to  Fort  Donelson  for  a  time 
as  he  rode  into  town,  Lamum  had  cheered  him 
a  little  for  the  moment,  but  Brother  Barker  was 
worth  more  than  all  besides.  Pete,  Lamum,  and 
the  rest  were  all  very  well,  but  what  Brother 
Barker  said  fell  on  the  cars  of  the  Colonel  with 
all  the  weight  of  religious  truth.  From  his  earli- 
I  est  recollection  the  Colonel  had  been  accustomed 
'  to  receive  as  certainly  true  what  his  preacher 
said  whether  in  the  pulpit  or  out  of  it.  Besides, 
Brother  Barker  proved  all  he  advanced  from 
Scrii)turc  itself.  To  doubt  Brother  Barker's  con- 
clusions was  irreligious,  and  the  Colonel  hadn't 
been  a  "  member"  for  thirty  years  now— class 
leader,  steward,  and  all — to  do  that ! 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  this  last  Fort 
Donelson  news?"  asked  the  Colonel,  immediate- 
ly after  saluting  his  guest,  and  making  himself 


24 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


comfortable  by  seating  himself  in  a  hide-bot- 
tomed chair  and  tilting  liimself  back  in  it  against 
the  wall. 

"As  I  see  you  do,  Brother  Juggins— painful, 
painful  intelligence,"  rcjilied  the  preacher. 

"You  believe  in  it,  then?"  asked  the  Colonel, 
slowly  and  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"Believe  in  it?  Certainly  I  do.  Tliere  isn't 
the  least  doubt,  as  I  can  see,  but  the  Federals 
are  in  possession  of  Donelson  and  Nashville, 
Tuseumbia  and  Iluntsville,  too,  for  what  we 
know!" 

"Well,  you  take  it  easier  like  than  I  can," 
said  the  jilanter,  with  a  gloomy  brow. 

"Wliy  not.  Brother  Juggins?  It  is  of  the 
Lord,  isn't  it?  Besides,  what  do  I  care,  and 
what  ought  you  to  care  about  Donelson,  Nash- 
ville, and  the  like,  wiicn  I  know  and  when  you 
know  what  the  end  of  it  all  is  certain  to  be? 
Why,  Brother  Juggins,  whatever  I  expected  of 
a  worldling  I  didn't  expect  it  of  you.  A  man 
out  in  the  world,  now,  I  wouldn't  be  surprised 
at,  ])ut  you  !"  And  the  preacher  was  as  cheer- 
ful as  his  host  was  gloomy. 

"I  was  hopin'  strong  it  wasn't  true,"  said  the 
planter,  after  some  time.  "To  me  it  sounds 
mighty  bad,  no  usetryin'  to  hide  it." 

"And  that  after  all  yon  know  on  the  subject, 
after  all  the  talk  we've  had!  Well,  Brother 
Juggins,  you  must  pardon  me  saying  it,  but  I 
am  surprised  and  grieved,"  said  the  preacher. 

"Surprised  at  what?"  asked  the  planter. 
"  Bad  news  is  bad  news,  I  suppose." 

"Strange;  human  nature;  well;  oh  yes,  of 
course ;  ought  to  expect  it  at  last,"  mused  the 
preacher,  with  his  head  down  on  his  bosom  as  if 
in  soliloquy.  "  So  many  thousands  of  years  ago 
it  was  those  Jews  talked  the  same  way !  At  it 
the  instant  they  heard  Pharoah's  chariots  rat- 
tling behind  them.  Very  first  sound  of  the 
wheels  they  forgot  Moses,  forgot  God,  forgot 
every  thing  except  that  Pharoali  was  after  them. 
Umph !     Well.     Yes." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  it  exactly  that  way," 
said  the  planter,  accepting  the  reproof  humbly, 
and  seeing  consolation  in  it. 

"Did  I  ever  say  we  would  escape  some  fight- 
ing, some  being  defeated  before  we  got  through  ?" 
asked  the  preacher — "  tell  me  now,  Brother  Jug- 
gins." 

"You  did  at  the  firset,  as  I  mind,"  said  the 
planter,  with  a  thoughtful  brow.  "Christian 
Israel  you  know  we  were.  Baldwin,  he  made 
that  plain  in  his  book.  Abraham  drivout  from 
his  father's  house,  our  forefathers  driv  of  God 
over  the  ocean,  God's  special  peo])le  in  both 
cases.  Thirteen  tribes  settled  in  Canaan,  thir- 
teen colonies  settled  in  America.  Some  of  them 
tribes  split  off  from  the  rest,  some  of  our  States 
split  off  from  the  rest,  too.  And,  you  mind, 
when  Secession  first  started,  come  to  think  of  it, 
you  proved  from  the  Bible  there  would  be  no 


fight,  not  a  bit.  God  wouldn't  let  that  fool  son 
of  Solomon  fight  the  tribes  that  split  off  even 
when  he  wanted  to.  There  was  goin'  to  be  no 
figiit,  no  fight  at  all!  God  himself  would  inter- 
pose to  hinder,  you  said.  And  it  did  look  mighty 
plain." 

"But,  Brother  Juggins — "  began  the  preach- 
er. 

"  In  one  moment,  Brother  Barker.  I've  been 
study  in'  over  it,  and  I  want  to  speak  about  that 
Christian  Israel  idea  while  I  remember.  I've 
been  wantin'  to  ask  you ;  it  don't  seem  to  gee 
like.  In  the  Bible  the  tribes  that  split  oft'  were 
all  excejU  two;  in  our  case  it's  the  fewer  num- 
ber has  split  oft'  from  the  larger  number.  Then, 
and  this  hurts  me  worst,  the  tribes  that  split  off' 
were  the  ones  that  sinned  against  God  in  the 
thing,  that  became  worse  and  worse,  that  went 
to — what  did  ever  become  of  them  ? — while  the 
tribes  that  they  si)lit  oft'  from  remained  the  fa- 
vored ijcojilc  of  God,  had  Jerusalem,  and  the 
Temple,  and  all.  I  tell  you.  Brother  Barker,  it 
was  all  very  pretty  when  you  first  look  at  it, 
but  the  more  you  study  into  it — there  was  that 
about  there  being  no  fightin'  ])ermitted  of  God 
between  the  tribes  when  the  break-up  took  place. 
I  declare,  for  one  man,  I  don't  understand  it!" 
concluded  the  old  planter,  somewhat  testily. 

"Brother  Juggins,  '  said  the  preacher,  grave- 
ly, "do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  have 
studied  Baldwin's  book  from  end  to  end,  deep- 
ly, thoroughly?" 

' '  No,  ,S7/-, "  said  the  planter.  ' '  It's  near  three 
inches  thick,  that  book.  I  only  skimmed  over 
it — a  little  here  and  a  little  there."' 

"  I  really  do  not  think.  Brother  Juggins,"  said 
the  preacher,  in  a  tone  of  expostulation,  "that 
you  ought  to  decide  so  upon  what  you  say  your- 
self you  never  studied  to  the  bottom." 

"Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  the  planter,  as  he 
remembered  how  ponderous  was  the  volume  in 
question,  and  how  very  little  he  had  mastered 
its  contents.  "But  there  was  not  one  syllable 
about  Secession  in  the  whole  book,  I  know  that, 
any  how.  It  was  Monarchy  and  Democracy 
that  was  to  fight  the  battle  of  Armageddon  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley.  Not  one  hint  about  Se- 
cession !" 

And  Colonel  Juggins  was  not  the  only  one 
who  had  puzzled  over  the  book  in  question — 
"Armageddon,  or  the  United  States  in 
Prophecy."  You  saw  the  thick  and  well- 
thumbed  volume  on  every  shelf  during  the  two 
or  three  years  before  Secession. 

"Brother  Baldwin  was  mistaken  about  that," 
consented  the  preacher.  "But  he  has  found 
out  his  mistake,  and,  they  say,  is  lecturing  like 
wild -fire  every  where  setting  people  right.  I 
believe  as  certain  as  I  do  my  own  existence  those 
prophecies  in  the  Bible  about  the  South  and  our 
Confederacy.  I'll  talk  with  you  any  day  about 
them  as  long  as  you  like.     No  man,  at  least  no 


INSIDK.— A  CIIKUNICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


25 


Chiistian  man,  can  study  tliosc  ])r()i)liecies  and 
say  they  don't  have  rcfoiencc  to  the  Confedera- 
cy. But  we  won't  talk  about  tliat  now.  Broth- 
er Jujigins,  will  you  favor  nic  with  a  Bible?" 

The  Bible  was  found,  dusted,  and  brought. 
Mrs.  Jugt;ins  drew  still  nearer  with  her  knitting. 
"Brother  Juggins,"  said  the  ]ireaelier,  after 
he  had  found  the  place  in  the  large,  well-thumbed 
Bible,  and  putting  on  his  pulpit  manner  as  an 
Episcopal  elergynum  would  put  on  his  gown, 
"you  often  say  you  arc  a.  plain  man.  Well, 
von  can  understand  a  jilain  passage  in  the  Bi- 
ble—" 

"That  passage  iu  Timothy?"  inquired  the 
Colonel. 

"I  know  we've  been  over  jt  often  before," 
said  the  preacher,  "  but  we  can  hardly  have  too 
much  of  the  Bible,  I  suppose.  This  book  was 
given  to  guide  us.  Brother  Juggins?  Sister 
Juggins?"  Very  solemnly.  The  persons  in 
question  nodded  a  hearty  assent.  "Now  list- 
en," contiuued  the  preacher,  and  he  read,  in  a 
slow,  solemn  manner:  "It's  First  Timothy,  sixth 
chapter.  'Let  as  many  servants  as  are  under 
the  yoke  count  their  own  masters  worthy  of  all 
honor,  that  the  name  of  God  and  his  doctrine 
be  not  blasphemed.'  Next  veise  isn't  so  much 
to  the  pint.  Next  is:  'If  any  man  teach  oth- 
erwise, and  consent  not  to  wholesome  words, 
even  the  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  to 
the  doctrine  which  is  according  to  godliness.' 
That  is,  any  thing  against  slavery  he's  just  been 
speaking  about.  'He,'  that  is,  every  Abolition- 
ist, '  is  j)roud,  knowing  nothing,  but  doting  about 
questions  and  strifes  of  words,  whereof  cometh 
envy,  strife,  railings,  evil  surmisings,  perverse 
disputings  of  men  of  corrupt  minds,  and  desti- 
tute of  the  truth,  supposing  that  gain  is  godli- 
ness.' 

"Now  let  us  hold  on  one  moment,"  said  the 
preacher,  closing  the  book,  with  his  finger  in 
the  place.  "I  just  ask  you.  Brother  Juggins, 
Sister  Juggins,  isn't  all  that  a  descrijjtion  of  the 
Northern  people — the  Abolitionists?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  the  planter  for  self  and 
wife. 

"  ^yhat  I  say,"  added  Mrs.  Juggins,  "is  just 
this.  Why  can't  them  people  stay  at  their  own 
home,  mind  their  own  business,  let  us  alone? 
We  ain't  goin'  up  where  they  live  to  trouble 
them:' 

"  Exactly,  Sister  Juggins.  But  here's  what  I 
want  to  get  at,"  continued  the  preacher.  "  This 
is  the  Word  of  God  we're  reading.  It  says  all 
that  of  the  Northern  people  plain  and  clean. 
Next  it  tells  us  exactly  our  duty  toward  them — 
it's  as  plain  as  any  part  of  the  Bible.  Listen :" 
and  the  preacher  opened  the  Bible  again,  and, 
running  his  finger  under  the  passage,  read,  very 
slowly  and  with  prodigious  emphasis,  the  rest 
of  the  verse,  "'From — such — withdraw — thv- 
self!'" 


"Yes,  just  so;  that  was  y..ur  sermon  about 
Secession.  I  can't  see  liow  any  thing  can  be 
clearer  from  Scripture  than  that,"  said  the 
planter. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Brother  Juggins  ;  I'm  not 
through  yet.  I  want  to  ask  you  one  j)!aiu  tpics- 
tion.  Do  you  siqiposc  God  ever  commands  a 
man  or  a  people  to  do  any  thing  and  then  pun- 
ishes them,  or  j)crmits  any  body  else  to  jiunish 
them,  for  doing  it?" 

"No,  SirT  said  the  jilantcr. 
"Well,  we  are  beginning  to  sec  our  wav  out, 
then.  As  you  well  know.  Brother  Juggins,  the 
South  was  only  obeying  this  direct  command 
of  God  in  withdrawing  itself  from  the  North 
and  setting  up  for  itself.  A  man  is  stone-hlind 
who  don't  see  that  our  Secession  was  the  com- 
mand of  God.  And  here  you  arc  talking  to  me 
about  Fort  Donelson  and  Nashville,"  contiuued 
the  preacher,  becoming  greatly  excited,  "  fright- 
ened by  the  pursuing  Egyptians,  exactly  like 
those  Jews  were,  as  if  God  did  not  comniand  us 
to  leave,  as  if  God  was  not  going  witii  us  in 
leaving !  He  lets  Fort  Donelson  and  Nashville 
be  taken  just  to  ju'ove  us  and  to  try  us,  as  he 
said  to  the  Jews,  and  I'd  like  to  know  how  we 
are  standing  the  trial.  He  gave  us  that  great 
victory  at  Manassas  just  to  show  us,  in  a  way 
we  couldn't  help  seeing  if  we  was  to  try  to, 
that  God  was  with  us.  But  what's  the  result? 
People  forget  God,  say  we  did  it  all  ourselves; 
we're  waxing  fat  and  kicking,  and  now  He  is 
letting  us  be  whipped  a  little  just  to  show  who 
it  is  that  raiseth  up  one  and  castcth  down  an- 
other." 

"I  liked  mightily  what  you  said  in  your  last 
sermon,  Brother  Barker,"  remarked  the  plant- 
er, after  a  pause  of  rumination  ;  "all  that  about 
the  hearts  of  the  kings  bein'  in  the  hand  of  the 
Lord  to  turn  about  as  he  i)leased.  Only  I  wish 
England  and  France  would  make  haste  and 
show  some  of  it.  Them  Powers  have  been  just 
goin'  to  acknowledge  the  Confederacy  every  pa- 
per I've  read  since  we  set  it  up ;  somehow  they 
hain't  done  it  yet — " 

"  Brother  Juggins,"  interrupted  the  preach- 
er, in  a  sad  tone,  "it  was  hard  to  wean  you  from 
your  old  notions  about  that  old  Union  in  the 
first  place ;  it  was  like  drawing  your  eye-teeth, 
you  know ;  and  now  that  you  are  on  the  right 
track  it  is  awful  work  to  keep  you  to  it.  It's 
true,  we  have  been  acknowledged  by  England 
and  the  rest  before  now,  if  we  only  knew  it,  or 
soon  will  be ;  but,  don't  you  see,  it's  wrong  in  us 
to  look  to  them  so  much.  Trusting  in  Assyria 
and  going  down  into  Egypt  will  be  just  our  sin, 
as  it  was  the  sin  of  God's  other  peculiar  jieople. 
I  tell  you  now,  we're  going  to  get  it  worse  and 
worse  from  the  North  till  we  learn  to  trust  only 
in  the  Lord.  I  believe  you  know  I've  had  some 
experiences  in  religion — real,  warm  experiences; 
you  want  to  know  what  is  my  strongest  experi- 


26 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ence  now— the  religious  feeling  which  happifies 
me  most?" 

The  planter  and  his  wife  looked  up  expect- 

ingly- 

"  It  is  that  we  here  at  the  South  are  God's 

chosen  people.    Promises  of  Scripture  have  come 


out  to  me  plain  before  now;  but  I  just  tell  you 
this,  nothing  in  the  lids  of  this  book  has  ever 
stood  out  from  the  page  so  plain  to  me  as  that. 
The  North  has  gone  off  into  Free-Loving,  Gar- 
risonism,  Mormonism,  Spiritualism,  and  that 
worst  and  blackest  of  all  kinds  of  infidelity— 


INSIDE.— A  CIIROXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


27 


Abolitionism.  Tlicrc  was  some  religion  there 
once;  but  that  mnkes  it  worse  —  it's  ajjostasy 
the  North  has  falk'ii  into,  deep-reaching,  wide- 
spreading,  universal  apostasy — and  God  has  just 
given  them  over  to  it.  But  he  has  rescued  the 
South — lie  has  called  us  out.  If  there's  one 
single  is7H  hero  at  the  South  /  never  saw  it — not 
even  Universalism.  Talk  to  me  !  Can't  you 
see  that  you  may  as  well  give  uj)  all  the  Bible  if 
yon  give  up  what  it  says  on  our  side?  God  on 
our  side  ?  The  God  /  worship  is!  lie  to  help 
those  people  who  have  ajwstatized  from  him  ! 
I'm  as  certain  this  day  he's  on  our  side  as  I  am 
there  is  any  God.  As  a  just  Lord  he  emit  help 
those  people — catit  do  it!  Look  at  the  Jews! 
Don't  you  see  liow  he  punished  their  enemies 
with  sword,  fire,  pestilence,  famine,  and  the 
like.  If  those  j)oor,  miserable,  blinded  Yankees 
only  knew  it — the  ruin  that  is  coming  upon  them 
from  his  hand !  I  never  felt  to  pray  for  a  re- 
vival in  my  life  as  I've  felt  to  jtray  for  their 
defeat  and  destruction.  It's  the  Lord  in  me ! 
Ever  since  they  broke  up  our  Church  there  in 
New  York,  in  the  General  Conference  of  forty- 
four,  the  Church  South  has  been  praying  and 
]>raying  for  this  Confederacy.  Glory  to  his  name, 
he  has  heard  our  prayer !  For  one,  I'll  trust 
him  for  the  rest !" 

But  it  would  be  unreasonable  to  suppose  we 
can  record  all  tliat  Brother  Barker  said.  A 
small,  pale  man  was  Brother  Barker,  with  thin, 
lank,  black  hair  combed  back  off  of  his  low  and 
narrow  forehead.  Were  you  to  see  him  in  a 
crowd  his  small  and  stooped  form  promised  lit- 
tle of  the  tremendous  powers  of  speech  possessed 
by  him.  There  was  a  peculiar  thickness  and 
heaviness  about  his  eyelids  which  gave  an  addi- 
tional aspect  of  dullness  to  the  man.  Yet,  let 
Brother  Barker  get  fairly  into  the  stand,  and 
fully  under  way  in  a  sermon,  brighter  and 
brighter  grew  his  eyes,  faster  and  fixster  flew  his 
arms,  and  words  rushed  to  his  lips  faster  than  he 
could  deliver  them.  Like  most  of  his  denomin- 
ation, the  disruption  of  his  Church  in  1844  had 
begun  in  his  bosom  an  alienation  of  feeling  from 
the  North  which  had  steadily  increased  ever 
since  disruption  had  followed  in  the  other  de- 
nominations; but  Brother  Barker's  Church  was 
decidedly  in  the  lead,  as  it  was  the  first  in  the 
agitation. 

Perhaps  not  a  member  or  minister  of  the 
Church  itself  dreamed  how  deeply  and  thorough- 
ly it  was  leavened  in  the  matter.  The  act  of  Se- 
cession revealed  an  earnestness  and  intensity  of 
alienation  in  the  denomination  to  the  North 
which  surprised  the  Southern  politicians  as  much 
na  it  gratified  them.  Bishops,  presiding  elders, 
l)reachRrs,  papers,  it  was  a  powerful  organiza- 
tion ready  to  the  work — in  their  eyes  a  religious 


work.  As  with  every  religious  body  the  feel- 
ing was  deeper  and  stronger  than  any  mcrelv 
political  body  of  men  ever  know.  Even  the 
most  heated  politicians  saw  themselves  utterlv 
distanced  by  the  almost  frenzied  zeal  of  such 
men  as  Brother  Barker.  It  was  not  only  heart, 
it  was  soul  these  threw  into  it.  And  no  one  can 
estimate  the  immense  power  exerted  bv  such 
men  in  all  the  denominations  at  the  South. 

Accustomed  to  receive  as  religious  truth  cverv 
thing  coming  from  such  a  source;  iininesscd, 
and  which  is  far  from  being  the  popular  feeling 
in  regard  to  the  politicians,  with  the  disinterest- 
ed, heart-felt  sincerity  of  their  spiritual  guides ; 
aware  of  the  moral  purity,  too,  of  these,  no 
wonder  the  masses  of  the  South  were  so  moved 
by  the  unceasing  efforts  of  their  ministers.  No 
one  at  all  familiar  with  the  South  but  knows 
that  the  Southern  clergy  accomjdished  more  for 
Secession  than  all  other  instrumentalities  com- 
bined. By  far  the  ablest  arguments  and  the 
most  eloquent  appeals  for  Secession  were  from 
ministers ;  and  what  the  mass  of  inferior  minis- 
ters lacked  in  ability  and  eloquence  in  the  pulpit 
and  by  the  press  they  more  than  made  up  by 
their  universal,  incessant,  and  eager  influence 
during  the  week,  and  the  power  of,  at  least, 
their  public  prayers  on  the  Sabbath. 

Assuming  as  ini])regnable  that  theological 
foundation  for  slavery  which  the  last  thirty  or 
forty  years  has  seen  evolved  from  Scrijjture, 
those  among  the  Secessionists  who  were  believ- 
ers in  the  Bible  planted  tlicmselvcs  thereujion 
as  upon  rock — making  thereupon  and  therefrom 
their  confident  appeal  to  God  for  success.  And 
since  t^e  universe  afforded  no  other  conceivable 
ground  to  stand  upon  in  the  matter,  the  pious 
were  not  the  only  ones  to  avow  this  as  their  po- 
sition. Multitudes  who  never  opened  the  Bible 
had  awful  reverence  for  this  one  divine  institu- 
tion if  for  no  other  decreed  therein.  Avowed 
infidels,  too,  accepted  eagerly  so  much  of  Sacred 
Writ  as  proved  slavery  right,  even  though  they 
scouted  all  the  remainder  as  fable.  And  it  is  a 
fact  worth  recording,  that,  as  a  universal  thing, 
the  right  and  the  wrong  of  the  whole  movement 
settled  down,  amidst  a  thousand  side  considera- 
tions, unanimously  into  this.  The  abiding  of 
the  appeal  made  to  God  in  battle  upon  this 
point,  in  case  it  was  decided  against  the  institu- 
tion, was  a  contingency  which  never  entered  the 
mind — no  anticipation  of  or  provision  for  that. 
History  furnishes  no  instance  of  men  more  ab- 
solutely confident  of  the  aid  of  Heaven.  The 
nearest  parallel  to  their  confidence  in  history  is 
seen  in  the  case  of  the  Zealots  in  Jerusalem  at 
its  bloody  fall.  Ah,  direst  of  all  infatuation  to 
coimt  with  such  confidence  that  Almighty  God 
is  upon  our  side  when  He  is — not ! 


28 


IXSroE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


MBS.   BOBEL. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Brother  Barker  was  in  the  full  tide  of  the 
most  confident  and  convincing  assertions  uj)on 
the  state  of  the  country  when  he  experienced  a 
sndden  and  singular  interruption.  This  was 
none  other  than  the  entrance  of  a  somewhat  tall 
and  slim  but  very  neat  lady,  who  was  hailed  by 
Mrs.  Juggins  with  a  cordial, 

"  Why,  if  here  ain't  JNIrs.  Sorel  now  !  Walk 
in,  Mrs.  Sorel ;  glad  to  see  you  ;  don't  take  that 
chair,  this  here  is  an  easier  one;  take  off  your 
bonnet ;  come  to  spend  the  day,  I  do  hope ;  how 
are  all  at  home  ?" 

There  was  nothing  specially  wonderful  in  the 
lady,  at  least  to  look  at.  You  could  see  that  she 
must  have  been  beautiful  in  her  youth  ;  the  clear 
gray  eye,  regular  features,  and  still  graceful 
form,  showed  that  plainly  enough.  Yet,  being 
only  a  lady,  clothed  in  some  gray  stuff,  with  a 
calico  sun-bonnet,  it  was  hard  to  account  for  the 
interruption  caused  by  her  simple  entrance.  The 
preacher  stopped  in  his  conversation,  singularly 
abashed  and  confused.  Even  the  old  planter 
received  her  more  like  an  overgrown  boy  caught 
by  the  owner  thereof  in  the  midst  of  a  water- 
melon patch  than  the  master  of  a  household. 
And  i\Irs.  Juggins,  too,  seemed  endeavoring  to 
hide  something  beneath  the  bustle  of  her  wel- 
come. 

A  close  observer  might  have  detected  a  pe- 
culiarly arch  smile  which  passed  over  the  face 
of  the  visitor  at  the  sudden  silence  and  evident 


embarrassment  which  attended  her  arrival,  but 
it  was  gone  in  an  in.stant  as  she  saluted  the  com- 
pany with  quiet  case  and  took  a  seat  beside  Mrs. 
Juggins.  It  was  evidently  with  an  effort  that 
conversation  was  resumed  ;  and  the  burden  there- 
of was  thrown  uj)on  the  visitor,  who  had  herself 
to  mention  the  facts  in  regard  to  the  weather, 
which,  in  the  section  of  wliich  we  are  speaking, 
and  probably  all  over  the  world  besides,  form 
the  invariable  introduction  to  conversation. 

It  is  strange;  yet  if  ever  countenances  ex- 
pressed the  sense  of  being  caught  at  something 
wrong,  the  countenances  of  the  persons  thus  in- 
terrupted expressed  tliat  guilty  emotion.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  there  was  in  the  bosoms  of  the  persons 
interrupted  a  sharp,  sudden  sense  of  guilt  which 
sur])rised  even  themselves,  but  which  their  out- 
ward bearing  was  too  true  to  their  inward  self 
not  to  manifest.  Of  all  of  them  the  preacher 
had  the  deepest,  strongest  sense  of  this ;  and  a 
sense  of  it  which,  a  moment  after,  he  resented 
more  than  the  others,  being  more  violent  and 
positive  in  his  after-conversation  from  this  \ery 
cause.  Meanwhile,  if  any  one  could  have  known 
it  from  her  composed  and  natural  manner  or  not, 
.Mrs.  Sorel  was  saying  to  herself,  as  she  took  out 
her  sewing — "Dear  me,  I  wish  I  had  known; 
but,  as  it  is,  I  can  not  help  it !" 

With  the  rest,  she  felt  that  it  was  in  vain  to 
sit  there  five  minutes  and  not  get  into  the  one, 
grand,  only,  all  -  absorbing,  everlasting  topic. 
That  it  should  not,  at  least,  be  her  fault,  Mrs. 
Sorel  inmicdiatcly  engaged  ^Irs.  Juggins,  who 
was  her  near  neighbor,  in  conversation  about  the 
making  of  butter  and  the  raising  of  chickens  and 
turkeys.  The  scarcity  of  these  was  evidently 
leading  into  the  topic  of  the  war,  so  that  it  was 
necessary  to  avoid  that  theme  also.  The  gen- 
tlemen had  from  her  entrance  ceased  conversa- 
tion ;  the  preacher  apparently  engaged  in  read- 
ing the  Advocate — the  religious  paper  of  the 
Church  to  which  Colonel  Juggins  and  himself 
belonged — and  the  Colonel  engaged  in  smoking 
his  cob  pipe  and  solemnly  thinking  over  Fort 
Donelson  and  Nashville. 

Now  there  was  no  better  soul  in  the  world 
than  Mrs.  Juggins,  but  conversation  formed  no 
part  of  her  excellences,  so  that  it  devolved  ujjon 
Mrs.  Sorel  either  to  say  something  or  to  sit  in 
silence.  To  avoid  this  and,  at  the  same  time, 
keep  the  thread  of  conversation  in  her  own  . 
hands,  Mrs.  Sorel  began  in  a  lowered  tone  to 
tell  her  neighbor  of  her  various  devices  in  the 
economy  of  her  household ;  how  much  a  little 
alum  had  improved  the  candles  she  was  making 
at  home ;  how  easy  she  found  it  at  last  to  plat 
straw  into  hats  for  her  household  ;  how  she  had 
succeeded  in  making  starch — a  large  sample  of 
which  she  had  brought  over  for  Mrs.  Juggins^ 
from  wheat  bran. 

"  Yes ;  and  just  as  good  as  any  I  ever  bought 
of  the  store  —  Yankee  made,"  remarked  Mrs. 


INSIDE.— A  CIlKONlCLt:  OF  SECESSION. 


Juggins,  as  she  examined  the  article  carefully. 
"  Tiiat  is  what  I  say,"  continued  tiie  old  lady; 
"we  can  do  without  them,  we  don't  want  them 
here;  why  can't  they  ju.st  stay  at  home  and — " 

"Hut  I  must  tell  you  how  I  managed  ahout 
making  shoes, "interrupted  her  visitor;  and  she 
proceeded  to  tell  how  many  soles  of  old  shoes 
she  had  made  the  children  collect  from  about 
the  place  ;  how  she  had  soaked  them  well  in  wa- 
ter, and  so  made  them  again  into  shoes.  Mrs. 
Sorel  also  informed  her  neighbor  how  keenly  she 
had  suftered  under  the  dearth  of  bluing,  then 
desolating  all  the  wash-tubs  of  the  country,  and 
how  she  had  found  out  that  common  blue  ink, 
largely  diluted,  answered  just  as  well. 

"Yes,  and  ink  went  right  up  from  two  bits  to 
fifty  cents  a  bottle,  soon's  you  found  it  out," 
moaned  Mrs.  Juggins. 

Much  more  did  ^Ii-s.  Sorel  have  to  tell  her 
neighbor,  talking  rapidly  and  in  her  most  cheer- 
ful manner.  Not,  if  she  could  helj)  it,  should 
the  conversation  glide  off  into  the  war. 

"By-the-by,  when  did  you  hear  from  Frank 
last?"  asked  the  Colonel,  suddenly,  in  the  midst 
of  a  description  his  wife  was  giving  Mrs.  Sorel 
of  a  loom  she  was  having  made. 

Colonel  Juggins  had  no  such  intentions,  but 
his  sudden  question  ruined  every  thing.  lie  was 
an  ignorant  man,  somewhat  dull  too,  yet  he  had 
his  intuitions  the  moment  after  that  it  would 
have  been  as  well  not  to  have  asked  the  question. 
But  it  was  too  late.  Even  Mrs.  Juggins  saw 
that  they  were,  as  she  aftenvard  expressed  it, 
"in  for  it  now." 

"Not  for  several  weeks.  Colonel,"  replied  Mrs. 
Sorel. 

"Your  son  is  in  Virginia,  I  believe,  ma'am?" 
said  the  preacher,  in  his  usual  tone  at  the  be- 
ginning of  a  sermon.  Brother  Barker  always 
began  his  sermon  in  a  low  and  scarcely  audible 
voice  :  he  got  loud  enough,  however,  long  before 
he  got  through. 

"With  our  Tom,"  said  the  Colonel,  prompt- 
ly. "And  now,  Brother  Barker,  suppose  we 
take  a  look  at  that  three-year-old  I  told  you 
about ;  you  circuit  riders  know  a  good  animal 
when  you  see  it  if  any  body  does :  takes  a  Method- 
ist preacher  to  judge  horse-flesh !" 

"In  a  moment,  Brother  Juggins,"  said  the 
preacher,  who  was  not  to  be  interrujjted  in  that 
way  either.  "I  congratulate  you,  ma'am,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  that  you  have  a  son  to  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  his  country ;  it  must  be  a  great  satisfac- 
tion to  you." 

Now,  "Brother  Barker  was  built  for  fight," 
had  been  a  highly  complimentary  remark  often 
made  in  regard  to  him  by  his  friends.  No  knight 
ever  went  into  tourney  with  greater  zest  than 
did  this  man  into  any  theological  controversy, 
whenever  and  wherever  the  lists  were  opened. 
But  controversy  upon  the  well-worn  themes  of 
Church  Government,  Election,  Baptism,  and  the 


like,  had  ceased  entirely,  had  utterly  passed  from 
the  minds  of  men.  The  one  great  controversy 
of  the  day,  raging  not  only  upon  battle-tield  but 
in  every  village,  in  every  knot  of  talkers,  in  ev- 
ery se|)arate  heart  and  mind,  this  controversy 
had  swallowed  up  every  other.  To  it  men  gave 
all  the  zeal  they  had  hitherto  squandered  in 
dozens  of  different  directions:  certainly  with 
Brother  Barker  this  was  the  case. 

"You  are  perfectly  aware,  Mr.  Barker,  that 
Frank's  course  does  not  give  me  satisfaction," 
said  Mrs.  Sorel,  cahnly. 

"Ah,  is  it  so?"  said  the  preacher,  raising  his 
brows  in  wonder.  Like  every  man  who  stakes 
every  thing  on  a  cause,  falsehood  favorable  to 
that  cause  was  a  totally  different  thing  from  the 
old,  abstract,  abominable  falsehood. 

"You  must  pardon  me,  Mr.  Barker,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorel ;  "  but  I  have  observed  from  the 
outset  that  equivocation,  departure  from  strict 
truth,  has  been  a  leading  feature  of  Secession. 
Yon  know  jjcrfectly  well  what  my  sentiments  are 
to-day  and  always  have  been.  Frank  would  not 
have  gone  to  the  war  if  he  could  have  staid  at 
home.  He  no  more  wanted  to  go  himself  than 
I  wanted  to  send  him.  He  was  taught  to  love 
his  country  from  his  cradle,  and  from  his  earliest 
recollection  he  was  trained  to  regard  Secession 
as  tlie  greatest  of  crimes." 

"You  must  peiTT.it  mc,  ma'am,"  began  the 
preacher. 

"Only  let  me  finish,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs. 
Sorel,  in  a  manner  as  cool  as  it  was  decided. 
"At  the  opening  of  the  war  Frank  never  dreamed 
of  enlisting,  at  least  not  under  that  flag,  but  his 
case  became  more  unpleasant  every  day.  Hard- 
ly a  day  but  he  would  say  when  he  came  home, 
'I  hate  the  thing  as  much  as  you  do,  mother, 
but  what  can  I  do  ?'  Not  a  day,  not  an  hour  of 
the  day,  but  his  old  companions  were  after  him 
to  enlist.  So  many  of  them  were  gone  that  he 
began  to  feel  as  if  left  alone  in  the  world.  The 
hints,  too,  about  his  being  tied  to  his  mother's 
apron  strings,  about  his  being  afraid  to  go,  and 
a  hundred  things  of  the  kind,  wore  uj)on  him  till 
he  could  stand  it  no  longer.  One  bitter,  bitter 
day  he  enlisted !  He  did  as  tens  of  thousands 
of  others  have  done — swept  away  against  every 
prompting  of  reason,  religion,  and  conscience — 
swept  away  in  the  wild  tide  that  sweeps  the  land 
— and  woe  to  the  wicked  men  that  set  that  tide 
going !  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Barker,  if  to  no  others, 
to  thousands  of  desolated  mothers  they  will  have 
to  answer  for  it  at  the  bar  of  God !" 

If  Mrs.  Sorel  had  only  spoken  this  in  an  ex- 
cited manner  and  with  raised  voice  it  would 
have  been  a  much  easier  thing  for  Mr.  Barker 
to  reply  ;  but  there  was  a  calmness,  a  conviction, 
a  sense  of  being  unquestionably  right,  in  her 
manner  which  embarrassed  the  preacher.  Or, 
rather,  there  was  a  sense — struggle  against  it  as 
he  might — of  being  wrong  in  the  matter  in  the 


30 


INSIDE.— A  CIIllONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


bosom  of  this  latter  individual  which  he  could 
not  overcome.  Loudly  as  he  talked,  abundant 
as  were  his  arguments  from  Scri])ture,  fierce  as 
were  his  denunciations  of  the  Yankees — all  the 
time  there  was  under  it  all  that  sense  of  being 
in  the  wrong  which  the  preacher  could  not  pet 
rid  of  to  save  his  life.  However  it  may  be  with 
other  men,  the  really  pious  man  has  a  sense  of 
right  and  wrong  in  his  bosom  which  nothing  can 
quench — it  is  the  unquenchable  spark  within 
him  of  an  eternal  life. 

'•I  would  think,  JMrs.  Sorcl — you  are  a  pro- 
fessor, I  believe  ?"  asked  the  preacher. 

"Mr.  Barker,"  said  Mrs.  Sorel,  with  a  steady 
and  surprised  look  at  him,  "why  do  you  ask 
such  a  question  ?     You  know  tliat  I  am." 

"Tlien  I  would  ask,  ma'am,  why  you  do  not 
have  faith  in  God  to  leave  your  son  in  his  hands? 
You  should  not  grieve  over  your  son,  as  I  am 
told  you  do.  Thousands  of  us — Sister  Juggins 
here,  for  instance — have  sons  in  the  war — " 

"And  that  is  just  the  difference  in  my  case," 
said  Mrs.  Sorel,  breaking  quietly  in  upon  the 
])reaclicr.  "I  do  not  grieve  over  Frank  be- 
cause he  is  away  from  me,  or  because  he  may 
be  lying  at  this  moment  in  some  crowded  hos- 
]iital  without  a  mother's  hand  to  tend  him.  No. 
Nor  if  Frank  was  dying  there  of  some  disease  or 
some  dreadful  wound,  would  that  be  what  would 
break  my  heart.  For  all  that  I  could  and  would 
trust  him  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord — it  is  the 
cause  he  is  engaged  in  that  cuts  me  to  the  soul." 

"Really,  Mrs.  Sorel,"  said  the  preacher,  great- 
ly excited,  "your  views  are  very  singular,  and 
they  may  be  such  as  may  injure  you." 

"Such  have  always  been  my  views,  Sir,"  said 
the  lady,  quietly  and  gravely,  "and  always  will 
be.  If  I  speak  at  all  on  the  subject  I  have  none 
others  to  express.  And  what  I  now  think  and 
feel  was,  a  year  ago,  the  sentiment  of  every  in- 
dividual in  our  then  happy  land,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  desj)erate  politicians  who  were 
even  then  j  lotting  our  ruin.  Then  they  were 
regarded  as  bad  men  ;  to-day  they  are  the  rulers 
of  a  deluded  people." 

If  Mrs.  Sorel  had  only  got  angiy  as  she  spoke ! 
But  she  was  so  entirely  calm,  spoke  with  such 
force  of  moral  conviction,  in  such  a  tone  as  if 
of  burglars  or  murderers  whose  guilt  no  one 
could  deny,  that,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  preach- 
er was  confused.  A  mere  politician  would  not 
have  been ;  but  Mr.  Barker,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  a  conscience. 

"  Were  you  not  bom  at  the  North  ?"  he  asked, 
at  length. 

"Mr.  Barker,"  said  the  lady,  after  a  grave 
pause,  "why  do  you  ask  such  a  question?  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  am  a  South  Carolini- 
an. Mrs.  Juggins  has  told  you  that  repeatedly 
— so  have  I." 

"  You  are  a  strange  sort  of  South  Carolinian," 
said  the  preacher,  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 


"Perhaps  so,"  said  the  lady,  quietly.  "My 
father  was  a  plain,  sensible  planter,  living  in 
South  Carolina,  as  his  people  and  his  wife's 
people  had  lived  from  the  setilement  of  the 
country.  In  the  days  of  Nullification  he  was  a 
Union  man — not  without  some  influence — the 
unpretending  intluence  of  plain,  sober.  Christian 
sense — in  his  neighborhood.  lie  was  murdered 
by  a  Nullifier,  a  leading  politician  then,  and  I 
never  can  forget  the  lesson  I  learned  then — the 
calm,  solid  conviction  of  the  one  set  of  princi- 
])les,  and  the  heat  and  violence,  the  dueling, 
bullying,  cursing,  threatening  s])irit  of  the  oth- 
er. When  I  look  over  the  country  now  I  see 
the  same  diflerence  between  the  two  parties — 
only  the  noblest  and  best  among  us  have,  in 
many  cases,  been  poisoned  and  borne  away  with 
the  wicked  s])irit  which  was  at  one  time  confined 
to  the  bosoms  of  tlie  desperate  few." 

"And  is  it  possible,  ma'am,  that  you,  a  South- 
ern woman,  can  have  any  regard  for  Yankees?" 
said  the  preaclier,  with  a  strong  emphasis,  as  of 
nausea,  upon  the  first  syllabic  of  the  word. 

"Not  for  want  of  learning  what  a  di'cadful 
peo])le  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Sorcl,  with  a  smile. 
"  Only  last  week  Mrs.  Juggins  was  telling  me 
that  marriage  has  been  altogether  abolished 
among  them." 

"Law  me,  yes!"  broke  in  Mrs.  Juggins;  "so 
I'm  told.  Up  there  the  women  all  wear  pants 
like  men,  make  speeches,  vote,  and,  I  do  sup- 
pose, carry  their  revolvers,  curse  and  swear, 
drink  and  gamble,  just  like  the  men !  When 
any  man  and  woman  happen  to  meet  any  where 
and  take  a  likin'  to  each  other  they  just  consider 
themselves  married — free  love,  they  call  it !" 

"And  you  remember,  Mrs.  Juggins,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorel,  "w-hat  you  told  me  about  Lincoln's 
having  contracted  with  people  to  go  through  the 
South  burning  up  people's  houses  by  night,  so 
much  a  house." 

"And  Mrs.  Juggins  could  have  told  you,  too," 
said  the  preacher,  "  that  the  North  has  aposta- 
tized into  a  universal  infidelity." 

"Mr.  Barker,"  asked  Mrs.  Sorel,  pausing  from 
her  work  and  looking  steadily  at  the  preacher, 
"  do  you  believe  yourself  that  the  Christians  of 
the  North  have  thus  apostatized  ?" 

"  I  asked  Lamum  the  last  time  I  saw  him," 
said  the  preacher  ;  "  he  is  a  Northern  man,  too ; 
he  ought  to  know,  and  he  said  he  didn't  know 
that  any  one  doubted  it.  Though,"  put  in  the 
l>reacher,  with  candor,  "there  may  be — I  say 
may  be — some  Lots  in  the  midst  of  Sodom  :  for 
what  I  know  there  may  be  even  seven  thousand 
there  that  have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal." 

"Don't  mention  that  man  Lamum,  Brother 
Barker,  if  you  please,"  broke  in  Sister  Juggins. 
"  Preferred  cold  light  bread,  he  said,  that  night 
he  staid  with  us — a  Yankee,  a  regular  Yankee. 
He  has  a  cold,  creepin',  calculatin'  kind  of  a 
way.     Bein'  born  and  raised  North,  for  my  part 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


81 


I  don't  see  how  he  can  help  feelin'  with  his  own 
people;  it's  nature  he  sliuulil.  For  all  he  siiys, 
take  my  word,  he  don't  want  tlie  South  to  whip, 
lie  ought  to  he  made  to  leave — put  the  other  side 
of  that  wall!" 

"Sister  Juggins,"  said  the  preacher,  "you 
forget.  Charity  believeth  all  things,  hoj)eth  all 
things.  But  never  mind  about  that.  Please 
hand  me  that  Bible  again.  Mrs.  Sorel  is  an  in- 
telligent lady,  a  believer  in  plain  Scripture.  I 
have  been  blessed  to  convincing  a  good  many 
before  now  who  were  perfectly  infatuated — you 
must  ))ardon  me,  ma'am — about  the  old  Union. 
If  you  will  only  listen  a  little !  I  would  not  mind 
it  so  much,  but  that  you  siiould  be  from  South 
Caroliiui,  and  not —     But  here  is  the  place." 

And  thereupon  Brother  Barker  launched  out 
upon  the  theme  which  had  never  been  out  of  his 
mind,  and  scarce  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  except 
when  he  was  sleeping,  off  his  tongue,  for  the 
last  year.  He  adduced  all  the  passages  in  the 
Bible  which  are  considered  as  sanctioning  the 
institution  of  slavery,  and  which  were  as  familiar 
to  his  finger  and  tongue  now  as  the  j)roof-tcxts 
in  regard  to  election  and  bajjtism  had  once  been 
in  less  interesting  controversies  of  old.  Having 
established  slavery  as  a  biblical  ordinance,  he 
then  assumed  the  infidelity  of  the  North  because 
hostile  to  that  divine  ordinance. 

This  position  he  confirmed  by  numerous  ref- 
erences to  the  avowedly  infidel  writers  and  infi- 
del practices  of  the  North.  Garrison,  Theodore 
Parker,  Gerrit  Smith,  Berlin  Heights,  Obevlin, 
John  Brown,  Lucy  Stone,  Antoinette  Brown, 
Mormonism,  Spiritualism,  Millerism,  Lovejoy, 
Lincoln,  Lincoln,  Lincoln  !  flew  from  his  lips 
with  a  fluency  and  a  force  amazing  to  hear. 
These  were  the  things  which,  like  the  well-worn 
pebbles  in  the  calabash,  the  war  rattle  of  a  sav- 
age warrior,  Brother  Barker  made  deafening 
noise  with.  It  was  astonishing  what  a  mass  of 
ammunition  he  had  accumulated  upon  the  sub- 
ject. But  Mrs.  Sorel  ceased  to  wonder  when 
he  began  to  refer  to  the  Advocate,  lying  on  the 
table  beside  him.  It  was  a  very  large  sheet, 
and  week  after  week  it  had  come  to  Brother 
Barker,  as  to  almost  every  family  connected 
with  the  same  denomination  in  the  State,  brim- 
ful of  nothing  else. 

As  the  preacher  proceeded  he  waxed  warmer 
and  warmer,  louder  and  louder.  But  when  he 
came  to  the  unnatural,  unchristian,  despotic, 
malignant,  fiendish,  diabolical,  hellish  conduct 
of  the  North  in  actually  waging  war  upon  the 
South,  recounting  deed  after  deed  of  atrocity 
which  he  had  gathered  from  the  teeming  papers, 
he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  Mrs.  Sorel — who  sat 
by  quietly  sewing — altogether ;  seemed,  in  fact, 
even  to  have  forgotten  himself,  for  his  language 
was  rather  that  of  an  intoxicated  bully  than  of  a 
minister  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  His  sallow  cheek 
became  livid  with  passion,  his  whole  frame  trem- 


bled with  the  violence  of  his  wrath.  To  Mrs. 
Sorel  it  was  a  painful  sj>ectacle,  like  the  raging 
of  a  tliunder-giist  unpleasantly  near — jihysically 
uni)ieasant,  in  fact.  Even  the  Colonel  and  his 
wife  hung  their  heads,  dee])ly  conscious  how  lit- 
tle in  accordance  with  the  gos])C'l  he  |)reached 
was  the  temper  and  language  of  their  jmstor. 

It  took  Brother  Barker  little  time  to  get  his 
feelings  fairly  wrought  up  when  he  began,  but 
then  it  took  him  a  still  longer  time  to  get  them 
down  again.  Only  when  he  was  exhausted  did 
he  draw  to  a  close. 

"And  now,  ma'am,  knowing  all  this,  is  it 
possible  you  can  desire  to  be  associated  longer 
with  such  a  people?  Union!  Union!"  It  is 
impossible  to  describe  the  loathing  with  which 
the  sjjoaker  jironounccd  the  hateful  word. 

"Mr.  Barker,"  said  Mrs.  Sorel,  very  quietly, 
"I  was  told  something  the  other  day  in  regard 
to  yourself.  "We  hear  so  much  that  is  false  these 
days  that  I  took  for  granted  i^was  not  so." 

"What  was  it,  ma'am?"  asked  the  preacher, 
hoarse  from  his  exertion,  but  pale  and  eager. 

"I  was  told  that  Dr.  Peel  made  a  speech  in 
Somerville,  in  which  he  said  that  if  he  supposed 
the  Yankees  engaged  in  this  war  went  to  heav- 
en, for  his  part  he  would  prefer  going  to  hell. 
And  it  was  said  that  you  clapped  your  hands, 
with  others,  in  applause.  Will  you  permit  me  to 
ask  you  if  that  is  so  ?" 

"It  is  impossible  for  me,  ma'am,"  replied  the 
preacher,  "to  remember  distinctly  all  I  either 
say  or  do.  If  I  did  applaud  such  a  sentiment,  it 
was  because  I  well  know  it  is  impossible  for  any 
one  engaged  in  this  murderous  war  upon  the 
rights  of  the  South  to  get  to  heaven  !" 

"I  am  free  to  say,"  observed  ^Irs.  Sorel,  after 
quite  a  pause,  "  that  I  am  convinced  of  some 
things  by  what  you  have  said." 

"Ah!  ma'am,  I  believed  you  were  open  to 
conviction — and  what  are  those?" 

"  I  think  it  is  extremely  probable,"  said  Mrs. 
Sorel,  gravely,  "that  those  German  soldiers  in 
Missouri  did  break  into  the  dairies  and  drink  all 
the  milk  ;  because  our  soldiers  have  done  the 
same  to  my  dairy."  And  Mrs.  Sorel  looks  up 
with  a  smile. 

"I  had  hoped,  ma'am — "  began  the  preacher. 

"Pardon  me,  Sir,"  continued  Mrs.  Sorel. 
"Your  remarks  have  thoroughly  convinced  me 
of  something  more  to  the  purpose  than  that  I 
have  noticed,  and  you  are  yourself  as  well  aware 
of  the  fact  as  I  am — that  when  one  is  entirely 
satisfied  of  the  truth  and  of  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious right  of  a  matter,  in  regard  to  that  mat- 
ter they  are  calm.  It  is  to  them  a  something  as 
clear  and  settled  as  is  the  existence  of  God,  and 
I  can  not  imagine  a  pei"son  getting  into  a  passion 
in  asserting  the  existence  of  the  Almighty,  or 
any  other  thing  in  regard  to  which  his  mind  is 
entirely  made  up.  Now,  if  Secession  be  a  thing 
80  certainly  right — a  cause  approved  from  Scrip- 


32 


INSIDE.— A  CHROXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ture,  and  for  which  the  Almighty  is  so  certainly 
pledged — why  such  feverish  excitement  on  the 
subject  ?  why  such  incessant  argument  and  as- 
sertion and  violence?  If  the  North  is  pursuing 
a  course  so  horribly  wicked  wliy  abuse  them  so? 
Why  not  leave  them,  with  little  emotion  save  of 
pity,  to  the  certain  vengeance  of  God  ?  And 
yet  that  paper  you  hold  in  your  hand  is  fidi, 
from  week  to  week,  of  such  terms  as  rascally, 
scoundrelly  North !  villainous,  execrable  Gov- 
ernment! and  the  like.  Before  this  thing  bqgan 
the  editor  of  that  i)a])er,  and  all  of  you  minis- 
ters— yes,  and  all  Christians — would  have  shrunk 
with  horror  from  using,  in  regard  to  any  thing, 
language  which  is  now  the  everyday  sjjeech  of 
even  ministers  in  the  pulpit,  to  say  nothing  of 
Christians  in  i)rivate  life.  Can  it  be  a  holy  cause 
which  insjiires  such  language?  And  we,  poor 
Union  people,  why  are  you  so  exercised  in  regard 
to  us  ?  We  are  quiet  and  silent ;  one  would  sui>- 
pose  you  would  have  a  pity,  a  contempt  even, 
for  people  so  deluded  !  Why  are  you  so  uneasy 
about  us  ?  You  see  no  passion  in  us,  only  cool 
conviction.  Can  we  help  convictions  which  are 
as  clear  to  us  as  any  conviction  can  be?  AVe 
don't  interfere  with  your  views ;  why  can  you 
not  leave  us  in  peace  to  our  delusion  ?" 

"Mrs.  Sorel,"  said  the  minister,  more  excited 
by  the  calmness  of  the  lady  than  he  would  have 
been  by  her  violence,  "  I  tell  you,  as  a  friend, 
the  Union  people  about  Somerville  had  better 
look  out.  The  feelings  of  the  country  are  get- 
ting hotter  and  hotter  every  day.  As  sure  as 
you  live,  every  Union  man,  woman,  and  child 
will  have  to  leave  the  countiy  or  be  hung  !  We 
are  not  going  to  be  trifled  with,  ma'am,"  and 
there  was  a  dangerous  fire  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
"It's  with  your  church,  like  people  like  priest," 
he  added,  with  bitterness. 

"And  what  has  Mr,  Arthur  done?"  asked 
the  lady,  with  a  smile. 

"He  voted  against  Secession,  ma'am,  and," 
continued  the  preacher,  "so  far  from  being 
ashamed  of  it,  he  has  been  known  to  say  that  he 
will  always  rejoice  that  he  did  not  stay  away 
from  the  polls,  as  many  of  his  sentiments  did, 
but  went  and  cast  his  vote,  at  least,  against  the 
measure." 

"I  always  wished  I  could  have  seen  him  that 
mornin',"  said  Colonel  Juggins.  "I  like  Mr. 
Arthur,  like  his  preaching — ^just  a  word  or  two 
from  me  would  have  fixed  it ;"  and  the  Colonel 
resumed  his  pipe,  greatly  regretting  he  had  left 
the  magical  words  unspoken. 

A  close  observer  might  have  detected  a  slight 
motion  at  the  corners  of  Jlrs.  Sorcl's  mouth,  but 
she  said  nothing.  The  training  in  the  art  of 
holding  the  tongue,  which  Union  people  at  the 
South  underwent  during  the  revolution,  was 
amazing.  Alas!  the  long  and  severe  training, 
too,  in  all  manner  of  equivocation,  deception, 
and  dissimulation  which  many  of  them  submit- 


ted to  was  one  of  the  demoralizing  influences  of 
that  most  demoralizing  of  ])criods. 

"Never  you  mind,"  interposed  Mrs.  Juggins, 
with  a  wise  look  from  over  the  sock  she  was 
darning — "  I  know  one  will  fix  him,  sure  !" 

"And  who  is  that?"  asked  the  Colonel. 
"  Neely  isn't  the  man  to  work  on  a  man  like 
Mr.  Arthur.  As  to  that  Guy  Brooks,  he's  worse 
Union  than  the  ])arson  himself.  As  to  that  red- 
headed Ferguson,  somebody  ought  to  get  hold 
of  that  fellow!  Only  the  last  week  or  two  I 
hailed  him  as  he  was  riding  by  to  ask  the  news. 
W^ould  you  believe  it?  he  stopped  his  horse, 
threw  one  leg  over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle, 
and  told  me  a  long  story  of  how  Washington 
had  been  taken  by  Beauregard,  and  how  Lin- 
coln had  been  hung  on  a  pole — flag-jjole  it  was 
— on  the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  the  Washington 
people  hurrahing  underneath  like  smoke,  and 
all  his  dying  confessions,  and  such  like.  He 
told  it  all  as  solemn — you  know  how  dry  he 
is — never  stirred  a  muscle!  And  I  was  fool 
enough  to  believe  it.  Next  time  he  saw  me 
there  in  Somenille  he  came  up  to  me,  regretted 
— dry  as  j'ou  please — what  he  had  told  me  was 
false !  '  We  hear  so  many  things  every  day  just 
as  probable,'  he  said." 

"Mrs.  Sorel  knows  who  I  mean,"  said  Mrs. 
Juggins,  demurely.  "  Law  me  !  it's  no  secret — 
Miss  Ally  Bowles.  If  she  isn't  sound  nobody 
is,  and  if  she  don't  make  him  toe  the  mark  I'm 
mistaken." 

"  There  is  a  true  Southern  woman  for  you !" 
broke  in  the  preacher,  by  way  of  a  severe  hit  at 
his  late  antagonist.  "You  remember.  Colonel, 
and  j'ou,  Sister  Juggins,  that  day  she  presented 
the  flag  to  the  boys — I  off'ered  the  prayer,  you 
will  remember.  How  straight  she  stood — as  an 
Indian !  Her  hair  down  her  shoulders,  her 
cheeks  as  red  as  fire,  her  eyes  sparkling.  With 
her  flag  in  her  hand,  and  all,  she  reminded  me 
of  a  picture  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  I  saw 
somewhere  once  !    Genuine  Southern  woman  !" 

"But  they  say  Mr.  Necly — "  began  Mrs. 
Sorel. 

"A  Yankee!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Juggins. 
"Giaour!"  may  come  very  strong  from  the  lips 
of  an  exasperated  JIussulman,  but  it  could  not 
express  more  unutterable  disgust  than  "Yan- 
kee!" did  from  the  lips  which  then  spoke  it. 
"  To  lie  like  a  Yankee"  expressed  a  proficiency 
in  the  art  which  Satan  himself  might  envy. 
"To  run  like  a  Yankee"  left  the  old  similes  of 
deer  and  greyhound  far  behind.  "  A  Yankee  !" 
hurled  by  one  boy  on  the  play-ground  at  another 
was  considered  the  quintessence  of  all  insult  and 
cursing.  "Abolitionist"  used  to  be  considered 
strong  language,  but  "Yankee"  was  stronger  still 
— it  meant  the  abolitionist  armed  and  equipped 
and  in  full  operation. 

"Yet  no  one  is  a  more  ardent  Secessionist," 
said  Mrs.  Sorel,  in  her  gentle  manner. 


IXSTBE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


S3 


COLONEL  JUGGINS   RKADrNG  THK  "SOMEKVILLE  STAR"  TO   Ulrf   WIFE. 


•'Fine  looking  fellow,  too!"  put  in  the  Col- 
onel. 

"I  don't  care,"  persisted  Mrs.  Jupgins.  "I 
don't  think  Miss  Allv  could  stand  a  Yankee.     I 


I  hate  them  only  that  much  more.  Let  them  go 
back  whore  they  came  from !  What  I  say  is, 
let  them  let  us  alone  ;  we  don't  want  to  go  among 
them  that  I  know  of.     However.  Allv'd  rather 


ilon't  care  how  much  thcv  make-believe  Secession.  I  marry  even  a  Yankee  than  a  Union  man  any 
C 


34 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


day.     And  if  she  did,  there's  Mrs.  Bowles — it 
would  kill  her  stone-dead  I" 

"Why,  you  are  as  picrt  as  a  tree-frog,  old 
woman  !"  said  her  husband.  "It's  more  thau  I 
feel  after  tliat  Donelson  news." 

In  a  few  monients  Mr.  liarker  had  left,  care- 
fully and  cordially  shaking;  hands  with  Colonel 
Juggins  and  his  wife,  and  scarcely  honoring 
Mrs.  iSorel  with  a  distant  bow  as  he  jjussed  out. 
The  subject  of  the  war  being  exhausted  with  his 
departure,  Mrs.  Juggins  and  her  husband  were 
to  Mrs.  Sorel  for  the  rest  of  her  visit  the  same 
plain,  cordial  friends  as  before  Secession  was 
dreamed  uf  hy  them. 

But  it  was  in  vain,  a  day  or  two  after,  that 
the  Colonel  read  aloud  to  his  wife  every  word  of 
the  Somerville  Slur.  Tiiat  Fort  Donelson  had 
fallen,  and  that  Nasliville  was  threatened,  was  too 
evident.  It  is  true  the  Colonel  read  several 
times  over,  with  deep  satisfaction,  the  inii)ortant 
information  derived  from  the  gentleman  direct 
from  England ;  yet  even  this  news,  new  as  it 
was  and  delightful  as  it  was  to  the  Colonel,  pro- 
duced but  a  momentary  relief. 

It  was  a  satisfaction,  however,  to  leani,  as  he 
did  from  the  Somerville  Star,  that  the  recent 
disasters  were  all  owing  to  the  most  unexpected 
and  abject  cowardice  of  the  military  leaders — an 
event  which  could  by  no  possibility  ever  take 
place  again.  Besides,  the  Sfa>'  had  ascertained 
that  the  Tennessee  and  Cumberland  rivers  were 
both  fiilling  so  rapidly  that  the  capture  of  the 
Federal  gun -boats  and  transports  was  a  cer- 
tainty. The  Star  even  gave  an  estimate  of  the 
amount  of  provisions  and  military  stores  which 
would  thus  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Confed- 
eracy— "brought  to  us  by  the  fiendish  enemy 
just  when  and  where  we  needed  them  most." 

Never  had  the  Somerville  Star  shone  more 
clearly  than  in  the  passing  darkness  of  the  hour. 
"M:uk  our  words,"  said  the  Star,  "if  any  of 
our  readers  fall  in  witli  any  one  who  entertains 
a  doubt,  or  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  of  our  suc- 
cess in  this  glorious  struggle  for  all  man  holds 
dear,  that  doubter  is  a  traitor;  yes,  a  tkaitor 
to  his  country,  and  should  be  dealt  with  as  such .'" 


CHAPTER  V. 


OscE  in  his  life  the  Rev.  Edward  Arthur  had 
a  misfortune  befall  him  which  was  really  one 
among  the  most  fortunate  circumstances  he  ever 
experienced.  If  it  will  make  this  seeming  para- 
dox any  ])lainer,  let  us  say  instead,  the  gentle- 
man in  question  stumbled  over  an  obstacle  at 
the  outset  of  his  ministerial  path,  but  so  stum- 
bled as  from  that  moment  to  walk  that  i)ath, 
wlien  it  had  become  a  thousand  times  more  dif- 
ficult and  dangerous,  with  a  step  firm  and  sure 
where  multitudes  fell  never  again  to  rise. 


This  most  fortunate  misfortune,  this  most  bene- 
ficial blunder,  happened  on  this  wise: 

Some  four  or  live  years  before  Secession  was 
ever  regarded  as  a  possibility  outside  the  State 
lines  of  South  Carolina,  a  great  political  move- 
ment took  place  throughout  the  United  States — 
a  movement  as  sudden,  as  unexpected,  and,  it 
may  be  added,  as  much  underground,  too,  as 
an  earthcpuike.  At  first  there  floated  a  vague 
rumor,  eddying  about  the  street  corners  of  Som- 
erville, of  something  new  and  remarkable  in 
the  political  world.  To  the  people  of  Somer 
ville  it  was,  however,  a  something  so  little  un- 
derstood, and  so  very  far  away,  that  no  one  felt 
or  expressed  much  interest  in  the  matter 

The  matter,  however,  which  at  first  was  only 
hinted  at  in  the  jjapers  with  a  scornful  item  here 
and  there,  began  to  be  more  fully  and  frecpient- 
ly  and  respectfully  alluded  to.  Each  successive 
l)a|)er  contained  news  of  sudden  and  amazing 
victories  obtained  by  the  new  ])arty  in  city  elec- 
tions here  and  there.  The  excitement  rose  rap- 
idly. Overwhelming  majorities  for  the  new  or- 
ganization swept  away  whole  States  at  once. 
The  Whig  and  Democratic  leaders  ceased  from 
their  mutual  strife  in  amazement;  not  more 
astounded  were  the  white-iuiired  old  generals 
of  Europe  when  the  youthful  Napoleon  rushed 
with  victorious  hosts  over  their  obsolete  tactics 
and  old-fashioned  battalions.  The  one  thought 
with  these  leaders  was  how  to  take  possession 
of  the  new  party,  so  as  therewith  to  defeat  each 
his  ancient  enemy.  But  while  Whig  and  Dem- 
ocrat thus  schemed  and  planned  the  new  move- 
ment swept  them,  for  the  time,  both  aside  from 
its  onward  course. 

Somerville  was  very  far  from  being  at  the  first 
of  things;  but  even  Somerville  became  finally 
and  deeply  interested  in  this  new  thing  under 
the  sun.  In  vain,  at  the  outset  of  the  matter, 
did  it  look  to  the  Somerville  Star  for  light  and 
2uidance.  For  a  time  Lamum  held  both  his 
tongue  and  his  pen.  Lamum  was  taken  com- 
pletely unaware,  and  was  waiting  to  see.  Weeks 
rolled  by,  friends  and  enemies  alike  waiting  for 
the  Delphic  syllable  from  the  lips  of  the  re- 
nowned editor — friends  waiting,  afraid  to  step 
save  after  him  who  had  so  often  led  them  on  to 
victory,  doubly  afraid  to  place  themselves  in  pos- 
sible antagonism  to  that  trenchant  pen  ;  enemies 
waiting  for  fear  of  committing  themselves  to  an 
organization  until  Lamum  was  pledged  against 
it ;  then,  and  not  till  then,  could  they  be  certain 
the  organization  was  a  thing  right  and  good. 

At  last  Lamum  spoke.  A  thunder-peal  was 
not  more  distinct,  a  lightning  flash  not  more  di- 
rect and  destructive.  The  new  movement  was 
wrong,  unprincipled,  detestable  in  every  point. 
Those  who  had  gone  into  it  were  deluded  fools 
or  designing  knaves.  From  that  moment  Lam- 
um turned  his  artillery  steadily  and  terribly  upon 
the  new  party.     It  was  enough.     In  a  few  days 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


35 


his  followers  ]iaJ  nil  nimiiduncd  mid  denounced 
it,  his  enemies  had  to  u  man  milled  themselves 
to,  and  lieneetbrth  det'oniled,  it. 

Lamum  never  hinted  nn  ex])lanation  of  his 
course  in  those  davs,  hut  it  was  leailily  under- 
stood afterward.  From  liis  earliest  political  life 
the  dissolution  of  tiie  Union  had  been  to  him 
what  it  is  said  the  cciiu|nest  of  ('onstaiitino|»le  is 
to  tiic  liussian  Governimnt — the  yrand  object 
and  end  of  existence.  If  Lanuim  paused  when 
tlic  new  jiariy  first  rose  into  iiotire,  it  was  only 
to  ascertain  whether  that  jiarty  could  in  any  way 
hasten  the  destruction  of  the  Union ;  could  by 
any  possibility  be  so  wrought  by  main  force  as 
10  be  a  new  and  ctlective  engine  to  that  glorious 
end.  Had  Lamum  only  been  satisfied  on  this 
joint  he  would  have  gone  info  it  with  all  his — 
we  will  not  say  sou/,  the  word  docs  not  ajipiy  to 
the  gentleman — let  us  say  intellect. 

It  was  soon  sufficiently  clear  to  him  that  the 
new  party  was  not  available  to  this  end  ;  nay,  it 
might  even  switch  off  the  public  mind  njion  a 
new  track  !  Lamum  was  down  ujiou  it.  Siirewd 
jmliiician,  men  said  afterward.  Lamum  had  op- 
posed and  denounced  Know  Nothingism  in  the 
very  moment  it  seemed  certainly  victorious  over 
all  opposition.  Its  sudden  and  universal  un- 
popularity left  Lamum  amazingly  in  the  ascend- 
ant. His  influence  was  increased  beyond  com- 
putation. Yet  all  the  shrewdness  of  the  man, 
all  the  force,  influence,  success  of  Lamum  rose 
solely  from  his  having  given  himself  up  wholly 
to  one  idea.  "  The  destruction  of  tiiis  accursed 
Union" — that  was  the  thought,  the  passion,  the 
end  and  aim  of  his  life.  He  had  cherished  it 
years  before  he  had  dared  whisper  it  even  to  his 
most  intimate  friend.  He  had  attended  years 
ago  the  Nasliville  Convention  to  ])lan  toward 
this  end,  wlien  almost  universal  contempt  at- 
tended the  step.  Patiently,  hopefully,  unweaiT- 
ingly  had  he  toiled  in  this  one  direction.  ^Yhat 
amazing  force  it  gives  a  man,  the  abandoning 
one's  self  to  one  purpose  in  life ! 

Had  Europe  known,  had  this  continent  known, 
how  completely  the  destruction  of  the  Union  had 
been  for  long  years  the  one  fixed  purpose  in  life 
of  a  few  able  men  at  the  South,  pledged  heart 
and  mind  to  this  thing,  Eurojje  and  this  conti- 
nent would  hare  been  less  amazed  at  the  at- 
temjjt  when  it  was  made. 

"Be  at  my  office — can  you? — this  afternoon 
at  four,"  said  Guy  Brooks  one  morning  to  Mr. 
Arthur  at  the  rise  of  the  great  Know  Nothing 
movement  of  which  we  have  spoken.  As  he 
said  this  the  lawyer — for  Guy  Brooks  was  a 
lawyer  —  had  an  aspect  of  meaning  and  mys- 
tery ;  and  the  expression  thereof  did  not  suit 
him  either.  A  face  franker  and  more  open  you 
might  have  searched  even  his  native  Kentucky 
for  in  vain. 

"I  can  be  at  yowr  office  then,"  replied  his 
pastor ;  "  but  what  for  ?"     Not  that  Mr.  Arthur 


needed  to  be  informed;   his  friend's  mysierimis 
manner  iuul  already  informed  him. 

'•  Vou  come  down  and  see,"  reidicd  the  lawver. 

The  young  minister  looked  for  a  moment  in- 
<piiriiigly,  even  doubtfully,  at  his  friend,  who 
had  turned  away  to  search  for  really  nothing 
whatever  among  the  pigeon-holes  of  his  de>k. 
After  a  minute's  sileiu-e  .Mr.  Arthur  shut  and 
locked  the  door  and  laid  his  hat  uimn  the  table. 

"  I  suppose  I  know  what  you  are  speaking  of," 
he  said,  "and  I  want  a  word  or  two  of  conver- 
sation with  you  just  now  and  upon  that  subject." 

The  lawyer  took  his  seat,  though  it  was  evi- 
dent he  had  much  rather  have  waived  the  whole 
matter. 

"Mr.  Brooks,"  said  the  young  minister,  "you 
already  know  how  I  am  situated — young,  inex- 
perienced, aiming  to  etlect  good  here  in  Somer- 
villc,  if  it  please  God.  I  am  resolved  to  be  no- 
thing else  in  this  world  and  in  this  town  than  a 
l)reachcr  of  the  Gospel.  Do  you  think  it  will 
be  right  in  me  to  go  into  this  new  movement? 
Tell  me  frankly  as  a  friend,  as  an  officer  of  our 
church."  • 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  the  lawyer.  It  was  not 
so  much  in  a  positive  as  in  a  dogged  manner 
that  he  said  this.  What  singular  creations  we 
all  are !  Sitting  there  by  that  table  those  two 
men  knew  perfectly  well,  each  and  both  of  them, 
that  tliey  ought  to  have  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  new  party.  Guy  Brooks,  burly,  open- 
hearted,  o])en-handed,  frank-spoken  man  that 
he  was  to  the  centre  of  his  heart,  knew  with 
absolute  certainty  that  he  ought  to  go  into  no 
organization  whatever  with  whose  whole  plan 
and  pui-pose  he  was  not  thoroughly  acquainted. 
His  pastor,  too,  knew,  just  as  well,  that,  as  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel,  he  most  assuredly  had  no 
business  in  any  such  aftair  whatever.  If  you 
had  asked  him,  "Would  an  Apostle  have  en- 
rolled himself  a  member  of  any  such  party — of 
(iHij  party  at  all?"  the  "No,  Sir!"  would  have 
sprung  spontaneously  to  his  lips.  "  W^ould  Whit- 
field, Wesley,  Ileber,  Henry  JIartyn,  any  true 
minister  of  the  Gosjjel,  go  into  such  a  thing?" 
"No,  Sir!  no!"  would  have  been  the  instant 
re])ly.  From  the  first  something  within  him 
had  kept  up  a  perpetual  No!  at  the  very  jiossi- 
bility  of  his  becoming  an  initiate  in  the  mysteri- 
ous Order.  And  yet  both  he  and  his  friend  ])cr- 
sisted,  none  the  less,  in  doing  what  all  the  time 
they  knew  well  they  ought  to  have  carefully 
avoided.  Such  is  this  perverse  nature  of  ours. 
The  voice  within,  certainly  in  the  case  of  a 
Christian,  may  be  as  still  and  small  as  that 
which  spake  to  Elijah  at  Engedi,  but  it  is  j)cr- 
fectly  distinct,  and  is  the  voice  of  God.  From 
the  greatest  to  the  smallest  thing  in  life,  no  man 
errs  but  docs  err,  not  that  this  voice  has  not 
spoken,  but  that,  having  spoken  within  him,  he 
will  not  heed  it. 

The  mischief  is,  that  the  young  minister  put 


■66 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  keepinp;  of  himself  in  the  matter  oat  of  his 
own  hands  into  that  of  his  friend.  Almost  femi- 
nine in  his  trust  where  he  loved,  it  was  his  na- 
ture, then,  to  take  a  positive  pleasure  in  looking 
to  and  relying  upon  others — at  least  in  the  way 
of  advice  about  things  better  known  to  them  tiian 
to  himself.  It  was  an  amiable  weakness,  and  a 
positive  weakness  if  it  was  amiable.  On  the 
whole,  after  a  man  has  beeomc  a  man,  if  he 
lives  in  friendship  with  God,  then  to  that  man 
God  within  him  is  guide  enougli.  Infinitely  bet- 
ter be  advising  with  Him  in  liis  Word,  His  Provi- 
dence, and  in  prayer,  than  be  running  hither 
and  thither  in  search  of  advice  and  direction 
from  this  one  and  that,  who  is  himself  a  safe 
counselor  only  as  he  himself  is  counseled  in  the 
matter  of  Gud.  Better  live  in  one's  own  fellow- 
ship with  the  Almighty!  With  Christ  on  his 
own  bark  let  every  man  hold  the  helm  of  him- 
self with  his  own  hand!  Entirely  too  much  do 
we  depend  upon  and  arc  we  governed  by  each 
other. 


AT  TUB  KNOW   KOTniHa  OEKEMONY. 

And  so,  that  afternoon,  was  our  youthful  di- 
vine introduced,  with  a  sense  of  shame  and 
wrong-doing,  into  a  miserable  back-room  of  an 
old  office,  and  there  initiated  into  the  mystic 
hand.  It  so  happened  that  by  his  side,  during 
the  process,  stood  Brother  Barker.  Profoundly 
impressed  was  pale,  lean,  lank-haired  Brother 
Barker  with  the  ceremony.  His  peculiar,  heavy- 
lidded  eyes  drooped  not  enough  over  his  pupils, 


but  you  could  see  the  awe,  the  wonder,  the  in- 
tensity of  iiis  faith  in  the  whole  matter. 

"Brother  Barker,"  said  the  young  minister, 
half  aloud  to  his  companion,  about  the  middle 
of  the  initiation. 

"Well,  Brother  Arthur,"  replied  he,  but  giv- 
ing all  his  attention  to  the  ceremony. 

"One  thing  I  feel  satisfied  of.  This" — and 
Mr.  Arthur  finished  the  sentence  aloud — "is  no 
place  for  eitiier  you  or  me !"  And  there  was 
not  a  man  there  but  knew  the  same,  at  least  of 
the  two  ministers.  But  Brother  Barker  went 
into  it,  nevertheless !  From  that  day  none 
more  zealous  than  he  in  the  cause.  No  man  in 
all  the  region  organized,  and,  in  every  way,  ad- 
vocated the  new  party  so  efficiently  and  unwca- 
ryingly.  "  Brother  Barker  throws  his  whole 
heart  into  whatever  he  goes  into,  you'd  belter 
believe,"  had  always  been  the  remark  among 
his  friends  of  him. 

"  We  ought — at  least,  of  one  thing  I  am  cer- 
tain, /  ought  never  to  have  come  here,"  said 
Mr.  Arthur  to  Guy  Brooks,  as  they  walked  away. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  !"  replied  his  friend.  Only 
he  did  know. 

"You  will  act  as  you  please,"  continued  Mr. 
Arthur;  "but  I  am  done  with  the  thing  from 
this  moment." 

And  yet  not  six  weeks  had  passed  when  Guy 
Brooks  recognized,  and  with  regret,  his  pastor 
seated  among  the  members  of  the  Order  at  a 
special  meeting  for  the  purpose  of  nominating, 
which  was  the  same  as  actually  electing — the 
majority  of  voters  in  the  place  being  members 
of  the  Order — certain  county  officers.  The  fact 
is,  the  young  minister  had  been  informed  that 
Guy  Brooks  was  that  night  to  be  put  forward  for 
an  important  office.  The  vote  would  be  a  very 
close  one,  it  was  urged  upon  him.  "Attend  for 
this  once,  your  vote  may  elect  him.  Surely  you 
will  do  that  much  for  your  friend  !"  And  so 
again  did  he  pass  out  of  his  own  hands  into  that 
of  others!  Yet  Brooks  was  not  elected  at  last. 
The  only  vote  cast  for  him  was  that  of  the  min- 
ister, some  sudden  arrangement  having  been  en- 
tered into  just  as  the  Order  met,  by  which  another 
man  was  substituted. 

This  was  the  first,  and  it  was  the  last  identifi- 
cation of  Mr.  Arthur  by  himself  as  a  politician. 
In  the  sudden  and  overwhelming  unpopularity 
of  the  Order  which  speedily  followed,  it  so  hap- 
pened that  no  one  was  more  thoroughly  abused 
as  having  been  a  member. of  it  than  was  he. 
Very  bitter  it  was  to  the  sensitive  young  man, 
the  essence  of  the  bitterness  being  that  his  own 
conscience  joined  its  voice  to  those  of  his  foes. 
Many  a  night  did  he  lie  awake  utterly  miserable, 
"That  I  should  have  erred  so,  I  who  so  keenly 
feel  the  peculiar  sanctity  of  the  calling  to  which 
I  have  given  myself.  The  severest  of  my  ene- 
mies reproach  me  not  half  so  bitterly  as  I  do 
myself.     But  why  should  /be  so  singled  out  for 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


37 


rcpronch  wlien  every  minister  of  every  dcnomin- I  Tliere  was  a  marked  dissimilarity  and  as 
fttiuii  in  tliib  wliole  region  was  also  a  member —  marked  a  similarity  between  these  two  friends, 
all  of  them— active  members!  I  opposed  it  in  Tiic  lawyer  was  of  an  unusually  large  frame — the 
my  very  initiation,  attended  but  once,  and  that  singular  characteristic  of  Kentucky— stature  fit 
fur  the  sake  of  friendship,  and  yet  I  am  so  held  ^  for  those  who  man  that  outpost  and  bulwark  of 
up  !     Why  should  it  be  so?"  freedom,  while  the  minister  was  but  of  medium 

Why  it  was  all  so  ordered  he  understood  per-  size.  The  lawyer  was  angular,  and  somewhat 
fectly  well  not  until  years  afterward.  When  awkward  and  cumbrous,  while  his  friend  was 
Secession  became  the  rage  he  was  the  burned  the  exact  reverse.  Tlie  brown  face  of  the  law- 
child  that  dreaded  the  tire.  His  experience  yer  would  have  been  homely  were  it  not  for  llie 
during  the  furor  of  Know  Nothingism  had  brand-  frank  and  good-humored  expression  which  per- 
ed  into  him  several  wholesome  truths.  He  vaded  it,  while  peace  and  thought  gave  to  the 
learned  that  a  great  political  movement  might  face  of  the  minister  that  which  elevated  and  re- 
swiftly  rise  and  as  swiftly  cease.  He  learned  fined  a  countenance  already  prepossessing, 
that  such  a  movement  might  at  one  hour  nam-  ;  Even  had  the  two  men  not  been  thrown  to- 
ber  its  millions  of  adherents,  and  at  another  aft-  gether  as  minister  and  officer  of  a  young  and 
er-hour  have  left  scarce  one  to  do  it  reverence,  struggling  church,  in  a  new  community  having 
He  learned  that  vast  multitudes  might,  during  but  little  sympathy  with  religion,  they  would 
a  jKjriod,  be  roused  to  enthusiasm  upon  a  cer-  ;  have  been  drawn  together  by  an  instinctive  af- 
tain  point,  professing  the  most  thorough  con-  '  finity.  Genuine  piety  and  heart-felt  sincerity  in 
vietion,  the  most  ardent  affection,  the  most  ad-  both,  the  dependence  of  the  lawyer  u])on  the 
amantine  resolve  in  regard  to  that  point,  and    minister  as  his  spiritual  guide,  and  of  tlie  min- 


yet  in  a  very  short  time  afterward  that  enthusi- 
asm have  utterly  cooled  out,  that  conviction  nt- 


ister  upon  the  lawyer  as  his  counselor  in  mat- 
ters  of  the  world — these   ties   bound  the  two 


terly  gone,  that  aftcction  changed  into  as  strong  closely  together.  The  lawyer  found  singular 
aversion,  that  resolve  reversed  to  work  exactly  freshness  and  gentleness  and  elevation  of  senti- 
the  other  way.  '  ment  in  his  friend  in  comparison  with  the  rougli 

His  experience  from  Know  Nothingism  left  |  and  practical  world  in  which  he  was  struggling  ; 
liim,  and  thousands  like  him,  thoroughly  pre-  and  the  minister  turned  with  pleasure  from  his 
jiarcd  to  resist  the  far  more  eventful  Secession  books  and  his  own  abstractions  to  the  healthful, 
storm  when  it,  in  its  terrible  turn,  raged  over  matter-of-fact,  free-spoken  lawyer  Not  in  vain, 
the  South — resist  it,  at  least,  from  sweeping  either,  had  they,  side  by  side,  learned  the  same 
them  an  iota  aside.  To  that  first  experience  lesson  during  the  raging  of  Know  Notiiingism, 
did  this  son  of  Levi,  at  least,  owe  it  that,  from  and  of  all  that  followed  upon  its  heels, 
the  outset  to  the  end  of  Secession,  he  clung  but  |      "Yes,  but  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  asked 


the  more  devotedly  and  exclusively  to  his  one 
business  in  life  as  a  Gospel  minister.  And  the 
wondrous  dealing  of  Providence  thus  with  him 
to  this  end  awoke  within  him  the  sincercst  faith 
and  love  ever  thereafter  in  that  Providence. 

It  was  very  early  one  morning,  soon  after  the 
election  of  Lincoln  was  looked  upon  as  a  settled 
thing,  that  Guy  Brooks  entered  the  study  of  his 
pastor.  That  study  was  a  little  room  in  the 
rear  of  the  church,  amazingly  convenient  to  the 
lawyer  on  his  way  between  his  house  and  his 
office  down  town.  The  lawyer  had  a  half-con- 
cealed exjiression  of  anxiety  as  he  entered  the 
room,  took  his  seat,  unfolded  a  huge  poster, 
s])read  it  out  upon  the  table  before  his  friend, 
and  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  a  "There! 
what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

As  the  minister  read  the  flaming  capitals  the 

lawver  studied    his    countenance.       It  was    the    yon  prepared  to  submit  to  the  iron  yoke  of  an  AboUtioniet? 

countenance  of  a  poet  as  well  as  a  preacher-  i  l'""''  yt'''^'"'  *^  a-'-uttonist?    IFollow.citize,,.,  we 

'  I,    •  •      '  niu?t  Htriko  for  our  liberty  now,  or  be  forever  sr^AVEs: 

oval  brown  eyes,  clustering  brown  hair,  quiet  ^  ^„  (,,og(,  j„  f^^.p^  of  c,,,,;,,^,  „„  i,„n,ej,.jte  tjony.n,iont,f 

lips,  almost  too  full  to  be  so  firm  ;    an  expression     tlic  people  of  this  great  state  will  meet  thia  aflcruoon  at 


the  lawj'cr,  as  his  companion  read  the  i)0ster 
through,  then,  without  a  word,  folded  it  up  and 
returned  it  to  its  owner. 

*'  Nothing  at  all.  But  where  did  you  get  it  ?" 
was  the  rejily. 

"Tore  it  down  from  beside  the  door  of  the 
Post-office, "said  the  Kcntuckian,  with  onijihasis. 

"It  was  hardly  worth  your  while,"  said  his 
companion;  "you  surely  attach  no  importance 
to  any  cff'ort  of  the  sort." 

"You  are  mistaken.  Sir;  terribly  mistaken. 
Listen  how  it  sounds!"  continued  the  lawyer, 
and  he  opened  the  poster  as  he  stood,  and  read 
it  in  a  powerful  and  earnest  voice. 

"FREEMEN  OR  SLAVES! 

"The  die  is  cast.  The  unprincipled  .Vbolitionista  of  the 
North  have  accomplished  tlieir  diabolical  purpose.  Beyond 
a  doubt  Abraham  Lincoln  has  been  elected  President.   Are 


of  thought,  suffering,  patience,  and  that  alto- 
gether indescribable  separatedness  of  the  man 
from  other  men  which  characterizes  the  counte- 
nance of  him  who  habitually  looks  within  him- 
self and  above  himself. 


the  Court-house  at  3  o'clock.    Come  one,  come  all! 

" '  Strike  for  your  altars  and  your  fires, 
Strike  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires! 
God  and  your  native  land  1' " 

"Well,  and  what  of  all  that?"  asked  the  min- 


38 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


" THERE  1    AVHAT  DO   YOU  THINK   OF  THAT?" 


ister,  perfectly  cool  beside  the  excitement  of  his 
companion. 

"What  of  all  that?"  replied  his  companion. 
"  Is  it  possible  you  do  not  know  what  is  to  fol- 
low?   Do  you  not  know  that  South  Carolina  has 


already  seceded  ?  That  Mississippi  has  probably 
followed  ?  That  the  storm  is  just  rising  which 
is  to  sweep  over  all  the  Southern  States?  "What 
of  that?  It  means  that  our  State,  too,  is  to  be 
hurled  into  the  movement." 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


30 


"  Ry  whom?"  The  minister  patient  with  his 
mistaken  friend. 

"By  the  leaders  of  this  meeting  this  after- 
noon." 

"And  who  are  they?  Look  nt  it,  man. 
Lamtim,  tii-st  and  foremost;  Colonel  Uoherts; 
Jiidt;o  Jones,  who  owes  his  lato  election  to  Lam- 
um ;  Coloiu'l  JiifZRins  will  ride  in,  too,  from  the 
coufitry;  Dr.  Ginnis;  Alf  Pike;  Dick  Sim- 
mons; IJob  Witliers;  and  tlie  like.  There  may 
bo  others,  bnt  only  as  sjwctators,  like  yourself, 
Mr.  Ellis,  and  Fernuson." 

"  You  seem  to  take  it  for  granted  that  I  am 
not  goiuK  into  the  thing,"  said  the  lawyer,  com- 
jiosing  his  face. 

"  May  God  forbid  !"  ejaculated  the  minister, 
fervently,  and  somewhat  anxiously. 

"lie  has  forbidden,  he  does  forbid  I  But  yon 
do  not  estimate  the  thing  right.  Perhaps  only 
a  dozen  or  two  of  tlie  professional  politicians 
will  meet  there  really  determined  to  act.  Lam- 
um  will  be  called  to  the  Ciiair.  Brotlier  Bar- 
ker, by  previous  arrangement,  will  open  the 
meeting  with  prayer." 

"Never I"  interrupted  the  minister,  eagerly. 
"It  shows  how  little  you  know,  shut  up  here 
among  your  books.  Brother  Barker  will  open 
with  a  long  and  fervent  prayer.  His  whole  de- 
nomination at  the  South  will  identify  itself,  has 
identified  itself  with  the  movement.  The  stron- 
gest kind  of  resolutions  have  been  written  out  by 
Lamum  weeks  ago,  and  will  be  introduced  and 
passed.  Not  a  hundredth  part  of  Somervillc  will 
sympathize  in  the  thing — the  community  as  a 
community  will  heartily  disapprove  of  the  thing — 
yet  Lamum  wnll  publish  a  blazing  account  in  his 
paper,  and  represent  the  proceedings  as  the  unan- 
imous and  enthusiastic  expression  of  the  whole 
county.  Meanwhile,  by  letters  and  visits  to  all 
parts  of  the  State,  made  weeks  ago,  months  ago, 
similar  meetings  will  be  got  up  by  similar  poli- 
ticians over  the  whole  State  ;  an  enthusiasm  will 
be  kindled,  will  rage  with  fury  over  the  State. 
Then  a  Convention  will  be  held,  Secession  will 
be  consummated,  and  then  —  God  only  knows 
what!" 

"But  the  Governor — "  began  the  minister. 
"By — by  nothing  at  all !"  burst  out  the  law- 
yer, deeply  excited.      "  What  a  splendid  oppor- 
tunity for  immortal  fame  that  man  has !     Oh, 
if  I  could  but  be  in  his  place  to-day  !" 

"And  what  would  you  do?  could  yon  do?" 
"Do?  I  would  nin  up  the  flag  of  my  coun- 
try, rally  around  it  by  proclamation  every  true 
man  in  the  State,  and  defy  the  devil  of  Dis- 
union and  all  his  infernal  works!  I  tell  yon. 
Sir,  three-fourths  of  the  voters  of  the  State  would 
stand  by  mo  to  the  death.  Lamum  and  his 
clique  over  the  entire  South — the  politician!! — 
are  utterly  distinct  from  the  people  in  this  whole 
matter.  The  politicians  have  a  long-cherished 
hatred  against  the  North  burning  in  their  bo- 


soms ;  they  want  plunder  and  power.  The  peo- 
j)le  are  busy  with  their  crops  and  their  families; 
j  they  want  only  their  rights  and  peace.  Yet  in 
one  month — in  two  weeks  from  tiiis  hour,  the 
people  will  have  passed  helpless  into  the  hands 
of  the  politicians.  And  while  this  golden,  glori- 
ous moment  is  passing  away  never  to  return, 
there  they  sit  at  the  capital  of  the  State,  tiic 
Governor  and  the  heads  of  dcfiartments,  l)cwail- 
ing  and  de))recating  and  dreading  the  awful 
ruin  they  have  at  least  sense  enough  to  know  is 
coming  upon  the  State.  Unwilling  to  shed 
blood!  Imbeciles!  Infatuated  old  women  !  As 
if  the  cause  of  Bight  and  Liberty  and  Law,  and 
all  we  hold  dear  as  American  freemen,  is  not 
the  one  cause  to  strike  for,  if  need  be  to  die  for. 
Shed  blood !  As  if  that  should  paralyze  us  in 
this  last  moment.  Only  run  np  the  flag  of  our 
country,  rally  around  it  the  true  men  of  the 
State,  arrest  every  traitor;  only  a  firm  front 
and  a  bold  hand  for  this  next  golden  month, 
and  the  State  is  saved  forever,  just  as  old  Ken- 
tucky will  be!"  And  the  lawyer  walked  the 
floor  in  excess  of  impatience. 

"But  the  Governor?"  insisted  the  minister. 
"Understands  the  whole  evil  as  well  as  any 
man  ;   would  do  what  is  right ;    but — bnt — " 

"Is  too  old,"  supplied  the  minister,  in  sor- 
rowful tones. 

Tlie  lawyer's  head  sunk  gloomily  npon  his 
breast. 

"  You  draw  a  terrible  picture,"  said  the  young 
minister,  after  a  long  silence;  "yet  I  do  not 
feel  at  all  dismayed.  I  have  no  certain  faith  in 
any  human  arm  or  brain.  But  I  do  feel  a  full 
and  quiet  faith  in  God.  You  believe  in  him  as 
well  as  I.  You  know  perfectly  well  that  he  or- 
ders all  hearts,  all  minds,  all  events  in  infinite 
wisdom  and  love.  This  is  a  great  Christian  na- 
tion, has  been  founded  as  such.  Ever  since  its 
peculiarly  religious  foundation  was  laid  in  pray- 
ers and  tears  by  the  holiest  men  then  alive  on 
earth,  it  has  been  a  nation  trained  to  piotv. 
Think  of  the  numerous  and  powerful  denomin- 
ations; think  of  the  great  benevolent  associa- 
tions for  the  advancement  of  Christianity  at  home 
and  abroad,  and  of  their  millions  of  income. 
"Why,  Sir,  this  is  a  Christian  land !  I  can  not 
for  a  moment  believe  it  is  to  be  given  up  to  dis- 
ruption and  ruin.  I  would  as  soon  expect  the 
sun  to — to — " 

"Go  out?"  asked  the  lawyer.  "Well,  and 
'  the  snn  shall  he  turned  into  sackcloth' — I  don't 
remember  the  rest  of  the  passage — 'the  moon 
into  blood.'" 

"  Oh,  that  refers  to  the  latter  days,"  said  his 
companion,  with  a  smile  of  superior  theological 
information. 

"I  myself  can  not  think,  can  not  bring  my- 
self to  believe  in  the  raging  of  a  civil  war  in  this 
nation — this  nation.  It  seems  preposterous," 
said  the  lawyer,  as  if  reasoning  with  himself. 


40 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


The  minister  laughed  outright.  "I  did  not  | 
dream  you  were  ever  troubled  with  such  mor- 
bid notions,  Mr.  Brooks.  Really  Lamum  fright- 
ens you  altogether  too  much.  Do  you  think 
that  such  men  as  Lamum,  and  tlie  class  whom 
he  represents,  are  to  be  compared  with  the  vast 
body  of  sober,  sensible.  Christian  men  who  make 
up  this  great  country?  Or,  if  that  is  not  strong 
enough,"  sai<l  tlie  minister,  with  a  pitying  smile, 
"do  you  imagine  that  a  million  of  i.uinums  are 
too  powerful  for  the  Almighty?  For  my  i)art, 
I  lie  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  composed  I  feel. 
War  ?     Nonsense  ! " 

"God  often  uses  bad  men  to  accomplish  his 
greatest  purjioses,"  said  the  lawyer.  "As  to 
onr  Ciiristianity,  we  may  turn  out  to  be  not  so 
Christian  a  peo])Ic  as  we  have  fancied  ourselves 
to  be.  And  who  knows,"  he  added,  looking  at 
his  friend  in  a  way  which  both  puzzled  and 
awoke  vague  pain  in  his  bosom,  "  but  that  the 
Almighty  has  a  special  controversy  with  us  as  a 
peojile — a  special  controversy  ?  If  He  has,  you 
depend  on  it  no  amount  of  Christianity,  nor  of 
national  fasting  and  prayer  on  our  part,  will  ar- 
rest His  hand  until  that  one  matter  be  settled. 
We  will  see  very  soon.  No  matter  about  that 
just  yet.  The  power  of  the  bad  men,  the  palsy 
of  the  good  men  just  now !  I  declare  it  docs 
look  like  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  though. 
However!  It  is  the  ruin  of  my  native  South, 
and  by  the  rash  hands  of  the  South  itself,  that  I 
fear.  However,  I  am  glad  to  find  we  think  and 
feel  alike  in  this  matter.  I  was  sure  we  would. 
Time  for  me  to  go  to  my  office.  Good-morning." 
And  the  visitor  was  gone  only  to  look  back 
again  the  next  moment. 

"I  am  afraid  I  know  somebody  w^ith  whom 
you  will  not  be  able  to  agree  in  regard  to  Seces- 
sion," he  said,  significantly. 

"And  who  may  that  be?"  asked  the  minister, 
feeling  his  face  suddenly  burn  as  he  spoke. 

"Not  the. least  use  to  inform  you,"  said  the 
lawyer  with  a  smile,  and  closing  the  door  after 
him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


It  may  tend  to  lower  the  Rev.  Edward  Arthur 
in  the  eyes  of  the  readers  of  these  pages;  but 
none  the  less  must  it  be  stated  that,  although  a 
minister,  he  was  none  the  less  also  a  man.  Not 
an  ethereal  being,  not  an  ideal  of  all  excellence, 
but_,  from  head  to  foot,  a  human  being  like  the 
rest  of  us.  Perhaps  the  intensest  human  part 
about  him  was  his  heart.  His  capacity  for  lov- 
ing, his  proclivity  for  loving,  his  unweariedness 
in  loving  from  his  earliest  recollection  upward 
was  wonderful. 

Of  course  it  is  painful  to  make  the  statement, 
yet  it  must  be  said  that,  from  the  day  when  just 
three  years  old,  he  was  detected  in  the  act  of 


AETUCB'S   WEAKNESS. 

kissing  behind  a  parlor  rocking-chair  a  young 
lady-visitor  of  some  six  months  or  so  less  ex- 
perience of  life,  onward  he  had  never  ceased  to 
love.  His  own  relatives,  of  course;  but,  in  ad- 
dition to  these,  all  the  little  flaxen-haired  com- 
panions of  his  childhood — there  always  being 
for  the  day  some  special  queen  of  his  heart  in 
virtue  of  hair  specially  flaxen,  eyes  particularly 
black  or  blue,  cheeks  uncommonly  rosy,  and  fair, 
and  dimpled,  dress  remarkably  beautiful,  or, 
what  was  even  more  to  the  purpose,  the  being 
specially  associated  with  him  for  the  time  of  the 
little  Cleopatra  of  the  hour.  Up  to  the  very  day 
of  leaving  for  college  he  had  not  learned  to  mas- 
ter such  nonsense. 

With  the  development  of  lungs  and  brains  and 
all  the  rest  the  heart  had  persisted  in  growing 
also.  Not  that,  when  he  rolled  away,  just  six- 
teen years  old,  in  the  stage  from  his  father's  door, 
he  had  as  yet  met  exactly  with  his  ideal.  None 
the  less  did  he  bear  away  with  him  the  image  in 
his  heart,  the  lock  of  her  hair  being  in  his  Bible 
in  his  trunk,  of  the  last,  in  the  quick  succession 
of  the  queens  of  his  childhood  ;  not  so  much  be- 
cause he  loved  her,  as  from  the  pleasure  it  was 
to  him,  the  absolute  necessity  it  was  to  him  to 
love  somebody. 

His  four  years'  course  in  college  was  a  sudden 
and  total  interregnum  in  all  this.  Minerva  set 
aside  Venus  with  perfect  success  during  those 
four  college  years.  Heart  had  to  content  itself 
with  merely  keeping  up  the  circulation  while  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


41 


brain  was  being  developed.  Vastly  better  would 
it  have  been  could  the  two  have  shared  the  man 
naore  equally  between  them — not  so  cold  and  hard 
would  those  four  years  have  been.  Languages, 
philosoj)hy,  nuithematics ;  mathematics,  iihiloso- 
pby,  languages  all  the  session  through,  the  im- 
pulse thereof  bore  him,  like  a  locomotive  over  a 
break  in  the  track,  over  the  gap  of  each  vacation 
with  a  jar  scarce  pcrcei)tible.  That  day  Edward 
Arthur  grailu.ited  he  could  have  laid  his  hanil 
upon  the  folds  of  the  silk  gown  which  covered 
iiis  bosom  and  have  truthfully  declared  liis  heart 
to  have  been,  during  the  jirevious  four  years, 
wholly  free  from  thought  of  woman.  And  as  he 
descended  tlie  steps  of  the  platform  after  Com- 
mencement, he  could  have  safely  declared  that, 
leaving  more  sacred  things  aside  dearer  to  him 
than  the  entire  sex,  from  Eve  down,  was  the 
honor  he  had  obtained  from  Alma  Mater,  most 
revered  and  beloved  of  all  her  sex. 

Altogether  too  short  was  the  period  wliich  fol- 
lowed to  think  upon  any  thing  but  the  immedi- 
ate Past  and  the  immediate  Future.  Bright 
and  early  that  September  morning  following  his 
graduation  did  he  jn'csent  himself  .in  the  chapel 
of  the  Theological  Seminary  to  be  matriculated  ; 
no  man  more  free  from  every  thing  else  in  the 
world  to  devote  himself  to  his  studies  for  the 
ministry.  And  into  it  he  plunged :  Church 
History ;  Tiieology  polemic,  didactic,  patristic, 
exegetic ;  the  preparation  and  delivery  of  ser- 
mons; Hebrew;  Chaldaic;  Syriac ;  German. 
Grudgingly  was  the  morning  and  evening  walk 
granted  to  the  muscles;  only  because  it  was  a 
necessar)'  nuisance  was  the  stomach  supplied 
with  the  regulation  food  at  the  regulation  hours 
in  the  regulation  refectory — it  was  the  brain 
must  be  exercised,  the  brain  nmst  be  fed.  No 
wonder  if,  like  the  right  arm  of  the  blacksmith, 
it  was  dcvelo])ed  beyond  the  rest  of  the  body,  out 
of  proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  body.  True,  the 
heart  was  allowed  free  play  in  regard  to  things 
spiritual  and  divine,  even  stimulated  and  ever- 
more prompted  to  this. 

And,  perhaps,  it  was  well  that  such  things 
should  thus  by  years  preoccupy  the  heart ;  ob- 
tain from  long  habit,  the  deep-seated,  nniform 
custom  of  the  heart,  before  its  doors  were  opened 
to  all  the  world.  Yet,  if  its  affection  for  all  else 
could  only  be  kept  duly  subordinate,  the  very 
exercising  the  heart  in  the  love  of  all  human 
things  would  fit  it  for  the  more  vigorous  loving 
of  things  superior  to  these  ;  even  as  the  eye  and 
the  hand,  quick  to  sec  and  prompt  to  gather 
every  little  flower  flourishing  by  the  way-side, 
is  but  trained  thereby  for  the  prizing  and  the 
gathering  the  more  eagerly  of  all  diamonds  and 
precious  stones,  too,  which  may  sparkle  along 
the  road-side  of  life.  Is  it  altogether  fanciful 
to  remember  here  that,  though  the  heart  beat  in 
the  breast  with  but  one  throb,  it  yet  has  within 
itself  two  separate  and  distinct  sets  of  organs, 


an  auiitle  and  vcTitricle  on  the  left  side  there- 
of, and  an  auricle  and  vcntiicle  on  the  right  side 
thereof?  Thou  shall  love  God,  and  thou  shall 
love  men,  is  the  divine  command.  Only  as  we 
love  either  perfectly  do  wc  love  both  perfectly. 
Only  as  we  love  both  as  wc  should,  do  we,  a« 
we  should,  love  either  ;  only  when  both  sides  of 
the  heart  arc  whole,  and  keep  the  mystic  time 
to  each  other,  does  the  entire  heart  throb  aright ! 
"He  that  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath 
seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not 
seen?  And  this  commandment  have  we  from 
him.  That  he  who  loveth  God  love  his  brother 
also." 

One  thing  is  perfectly  certain,  if  ever  there 
was  a  man  prejiared  to  love,  prei)ared  to  love 
any  thing  and  every  thing  which  could  be  loved, 
that  man  was  the  Kev.  Edward  Arthur  when 
he  found  himself,  college  and  seminary  [lasscd 
tlirough,  pastor  of  the  church  in  Somervillc. 
Neglected,  forgotten,  the  heart  of  the  man  was 
to  assert  itself — was  to  make  up  for  the  long- 
endured  tyranny  of  the  brain. 

Let  me  pause  a  moment  here.  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  which  may  greatly  weaken  tlie  read- 
er's estimation  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Arthur. 
Shall  I  say  it  exactly  as  it  was?  Or  shall  I 
not  rather  carefully  conceal  the  fact,  so  that  the 
young  minister  may  be  that  much  the  greater 
and  stronger  individual  in  the  eyes  of  those  who 
read  these  pages  ?  Hesitate  as  I  may  to  say  it, 
ashamed  as  I  may  be  to  announce  the  fact, 
deeply  conscious,  as  of  course  I  am,  of  the  dam- 
age it  will  do  our  hero  from  this  instant  to  the 

j  end  of  his  history,  I  must  none  the  less  say,  be- 
cause I  can  not  possibly  avoid  it  and  be  at  all 

I  coherent  in  my  narrative,  that  the  Rev.  Edward 
Arthur  during  the  very  first  day  of  his  arrival 
in  Somerville  fell  in  love !  Pardon  him,  dear 
reader,  he  could  not  possibly  help  it ;  at  least 

!  he  did  not  help  it.     Pardon  him,  indulgent  rcad- 

j  er,  for  it  was  a  love  which,  however  hastily  kin- 
dled, never  ceased  to  burn  thereafter  with  but 
stronger  and  brighter  and  p\ircr  flame. 

The  way  of  it  was  tiiis :  When  Guy  Brooks, 
Esq.,  years  before  Secession,  had  written  to  the 
young  theologian  to  come  to  Somerville  and  or- 
ganize a  church  in  that  new  but  promising  town, 
and  had  received  a  ])romise  of  doing  so  in  reply, 
he  forthwith  began,  in  a  terrible  hurry,  to  look 
around  among  the  families  of  Somerville  for  some 
suitable  home  for  the  new  minister.  It  ought 
to  be  among  the  members  of  the  contemjilated 
church,  to  begin  with.  Next,  in  which  of  these 
families  should  it  be  ? 

He  himself  was  then  a  widower  and  boarded 
at  the  time  at  the  hotel,  and  the  hotel  was  no 
place  for  a  preacher;  half  an  hour  in  the  bar- 
room or  any  where  else  about  the  house  was  suf- 
ficient to  dishearten  one  of  his  calling  through 
all  the  avenues  of  smelling,  tasting,  seeing,  an<l 
hearing.    Mr.  Ferguson,  the  Scotchman,  ofTered 


42 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


to  share  his  bachelor  home  with  the  new-comer, 
especially  as  he  was  to  be  also  a  member  of  the 
church  to  be  organized.  Guy  Brooks  tliankcd 
him  but  declined.  A  most  substantially  and  in- 
flexibly good  man  was  Ferguson,  like  all  Scotch- 
men wlio  are  not  utter  reprobates ;  but,  like  ev- 
ery other  Scotchman,  reprobate  or  not,  Fergu- 
son was  set  in  his  way,  notionate  to  the  last  de- 
gree. And  cross,  too ;  no  tropical  thunder-gust 
more  suddenly,  niiexpcctedly,  and  violently  so. 
Upon  Mr.  Ferguson  Guy  Brooks  counted  confi- 
dently as  upon  a  very  oaken  beam  in  the  pro- 
posed churcii  organization,  but,  as  a  host  of  the 
pastor  thereof?  No.  The  lawyer  did  not  enter- 
tain the  idea  one  instant.  Sni)))0se  the  gnest 
should  derange,  should  injure,  should  lose  a 
Number  from  Mr.  Ferguson's  collection  ?  The 
very  possibility  of  such  a  catastrojilie,  with  all  its 
disruptive  effects  u])on  tlie  i)roi)oscd  chtircli,  was 
sufficient  to  settle  the  matter.  No  one  can  dislike 
to  pause  more  than  the  writer.  The  collection  of 
Mr.  Ferguson  has  been  unintentionally  alluded 
to.  But  now  that  it  has  been  mentioned,  it  must 
be  explained  before  we  can  proceed. 

In  Mr.  Ferguson's  bosom  existed  the  instinct 
of  collection.  It  is  an  instinct.  Look  at  the 
magpie.  We  all  know  what  a  passion  it  has  for 
stealing  and  secreting  bits  of  raw  cotton,  shreds 
of  rags,  fragments  of  pottery,  articles  of  jeweliy, 
and  the  like.  There  is  a  story  afloat  in  works 
on  Natural  History  of  another  bird — a  species 
of  hawk — which  has  its  nest  in  the  centre  of  a 
thorny  tree,  and  which  impales  upon  these  thorns 
all  manner  of  grasshoppers,  locusts,  insects  of 
all  sorts,  as  well  as  the  smaller  birds.  Toward 
the  decline  of  its  days  this  winged  virtuoso  has 
collected  a  perfect  museum  of  natural  curiosities, 
and  lives  and  dies  in  its  overshadowed  nest,  in 
the  centre  thereof,  in  scientific  and  serene  con- 
tent. However  true  this  may  be,  we  are  certain 
of  the  instinct  in  the  case  of  the  magpie.  And 
it  is  the  same  instinct  which  is  seen  in  the  col- 
lector of  autographs,  peculiar  snuff-boxes,  fan- 
tastic ])ipes,  singular  walking-sticks,  rare  editions 
of  old  books,  and  the  like.  Very  strong  was  the 
instinct  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Ferguson.  A  Scotch- 
man should  have  been  more  sensible  ;  but  in  an 
old  bachelor  the  object  of  his  collection  was  pre- 
posterous— he  had  collected  into  a  body  every 
treatise  on  the  subject  of  Infant  Baptism  he  had 
ever  heard  or  read  of.  It  may  have  begun  his 
making  the  collection,  quietly  and  innocently 
enough,  but  it  had  grown  into  a  passion — a  ma- 
nia. 

The  walls  of  a  certain  room  in  his  house  were 
devoted  exclusively  to  these  treatises.  Books  in 
folio,  quarto,  octavo,  duodecimo,  were  there ;  thick 
books  and  thin  books,  and  in  every  possible  style 
of  binding.  Pamphlets,  too,  of  all  shapes,  sizes, 
and  ages  upon  the  subject.  Files  of  all  such 
newspapers  also  as  contained  articles  upon  the 
subject,  and  the  whole  collection  patched,  pasted, 


annotated,  in  every  stage  of  wear  and  discolor- 
ation. Then  there  were  bound  volumes  of  let- 
ters he  had  evoked  from  reverend  and  irreverent 
sources,  in  all  degrees  of  angry  jiro  and  recrimin- 
ating con.  A  bulky  scra])-book  or  two  contained 
every  flying  anecdote,  ]iaragra])h,  item,  cut  right 
and  left,  from  every  ])apcr  which  he  had  ever 
come  ujwn  bearing  upon  the  one  theme.  One 
stood  amazed  to  behold  how  much  had  been  said 
upon  the  subject  in  the  world,  and  turned  away 
aghast  at  the  remembrance  that,  even  yet,  the 
question  remained  as  unsettled  as  ever.  The 
jjlain  fact  is,  Mr.  Ferguson  took  hardly  the  slight- 
est interest  in  the  subject  discussed  itself — it  was 
in  his  collection  ujjon  the  subject  that  his  inter- 
est lay. 

"  No,  and  it  would  sicken  him,  too,  for  life 
of  tlie  whole  snlyect!"  laughed  Guj'  Brooks  to 
himself,  as,  after  declining  Mr.  Ferguson's  offer 
of  a  room  in  his  house  for  the  expected  minister, 
he  walked  back  to  his  office. 

"He  shall  know  of  my  collection  none  the 
less.  And  surely  no  room  in  Somerville  could 
be  so  appropriate  for  a  minister  as  just  that 
room,"  said  Mr.  Ferguson,  as  he  parted  from 
the  lawyer.  In  something  of  a  huff,  too ;  only 
he  knew  that  no  amount  of  huff  on  his  jiart 
could  provoke  any  thing  but  amusement  and 
good-nature  on  the  part  of  the  frank  and  open- 
hearted  lawyer. 

*  There  was  Dr.  Warner,  also.  He,  too,  was  to 
be  a  member  of  the  church.  There  was  not  a 
pleasanter  house  in  Somerville  than  his,  nor  a 
better  spread  table. 

"He  can  have  mj'  office  in  the  front-yard," 
said  Dr.  Warner,  after  having  previously  re- 
ceived his  wife's  views  upon  the  subject. 

A  nice  office  it  was,  too,  as  Guy  Brooks  knew, 
for  it  was  therein,  in  retreat  from  his  wife,  that 
the  Doctor  entertained  his  gentlemen  friends. 
On  the  shelves  therein  were  the  Doctor's  rows 
of  bottles  and  papers  of  herbs.  Therein  also  was 
his  mahogany  case  of  surgical  instruments.  The 
wooden  apparatus,  too,  was  in  the  corner,  with 
its  complicated  straps,  in  which  Bub  and  'Ria 
had  more  than  once  imprisoned  Amos  when 
suffering,  in  imagination,  with  the  fracture  of 
every  bone  in  his  body  in  consequence  of  a  fall 
from  tlie  top  of  the  stable.  In  the  book-case  were 
the  Doctor's  medical  books,  especially  his  large 
and  intensely-colored  Surgical  Atlas,  of  the  inside 
of  which  he  was  so  careful  Bub  should  know  no- 
thing, and  yet  whose  every  plate  had  been  often 
and  most  thoroiighly  studied  by  Bub  in  the  ab- 
sences of  his  father,  assisted  by  Amos,  with  'Ria 
carefully  locked  out.  Therein,  also,  was  the  good 
Doctor's  collection,  in  glass  jars  and  alcohol,  of 
such  tumors,  bits  of  lungs  and  brams,  amputated 
fingers  and  toes,  embrj'os,  and  the  like  delica- 
cies, as  had  come  in  his  way  in  the  course  of  his 
profession.  And  there,  also,  was  a  full-length 
skeleton  in  its  comer. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


43 


"The  first  thing  he  will  see  in  the  morning, 
the  last  his  eyes  will  close  upon  at  night — have 
an  iniiu-cssive  influence  iijion  his  mcilitations," 
said  the  Doctor,  in  coniiiicndiug  the  room  fur 
the  expected  arrival. 

But  no.  Tliero  is  a  certain  smell  about  that 
room,  considereil  tlic  lawyer  with  iiiinself.  Be- 
sides— and  the  idea  struck  the  lawyer  with  con- 
siderable force — deprive  the  Doctor  of  that  re- 
treat from  his  wife?  It  would  be  a  base  impo- 
sition on  his  easy  good-nature.  And  then,  her 
tongue !     Phew  ! — no ! 

There  was  Colonel  Roberts  also.  Fine,  com- 
modious house;  Mi-s.  Roberts  an  excellent  wo- 
man, and  member  of  the  church.  And  who 
knows  but  be  might  be  able  to  influence  even 
Roberts  ?  But  the  lawyer,  charitable  and  hopeful 
as  he  was,  sliook  his  head  even  as  he  said  it. 
The  squat  figure  of  the  Colonel  stood  before  bis 
imagination  on  the  instant  —  that  black  hair, 
those  splendid  black  eyes,  that  full  face,  so  much 
like  that  of  a  l)ull-dog,  and  yet  so  handsome! 
"What  an  unmitigated  bully  and  blackguard  that 
man  is!"  said  the  lawyer  to  himself,  as  the  image 
rose  before  his  mind — forgetting  all  about  the 
minister.  "Gambler,  hard  drinker,  duelist,  ob- 
scene to  the  last  degree ;  unmatched  and  nn- 
matchable  in  profanity;  loose  to  disiionesty  in 
the  payment  of  his  debts  and  in  all  bis  business 
transactions ;  avowedly  a  scoffer  at  the  truth  of 
religion  and  the  virtue  of  woman.  With  all  this, 
when  he  cares  to  be  so,  what  dignity,  what  grace, 
what  eloquence,  what  polished  wit,  what  exqui- 
site courtesy !  That  it  should  be  possible  to 
combine  into  one  such  a  devil  and  such  an  an- 
gel !"  murmured  the  lawyer  to  liimself. 

Colonel  Ret  Roberts !  Nothing  could  be  more 
familiar  to  the  public  ear  and  to  the  public 
tongue  than  that.  He  had  been  a  bold  young 
lawyer;  then  an  indefatigable  stump-speaker 
throughout  the  State — copious  in  anecdote,  i-cck- 
less  in  statement,  vehement  in  invective ;  next 
an  Elector  of  a  successful  candidate  for  the 
Presidency ;  then,  for  six  months.  Charge'  at 
one  of  the  minor  European  courts ;  after  that 
Governor  of  the  State.  When  Guy  Brooks  was 
debating  whether  or  no  to  make  him  the  host 
of  the  expected  minister,  he  was  drinking,  gam- 
bling, playing  at  once  the  Edmund  Burke  and 
the  bully  in  the  United  States  Senate  at  Wash- 
ington. All  the  State  knew  pretty  well  the  kind 
of  man  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  was ;  most  certain- 
ly he  disguised  nothing  of  himself  from  any  one. 
Yet  all  over  the  State  religious,  grave,  and  sober 
men  applauded  the  Colonel's  speeches ;  contribu- 
ted gladly  pigs,  turkeys,  and  beeves  toward  bar- 
becues in  his  honor;  introduced  him,  with  pride 
at  the  opportunity  of  doing  so,  to  their  wives 
and  daughters,  and  voted  him  into  whatever 
office  he  demanded  rather  than  asked  at  their 
hands. 

"As  yon  say,  my  house  is  too  far  out  of 


Somerville  for  the  purpose ;  or,  there  being  only 
Robby  and  myself  here,  I  would  be  pleased  to 
have  Mr.  Arthur  with  me,"  Mrs.  Sorel  oliscrved, 
when  Guy  Brooks,  throwing  bis  energies  into 
the  matter,  had  ridden  out  to  consult  her  upon 
the  subject.  There  is  Mrs.  Bowles,  thought  Mrs. 
Sorel  to  herself,  and  she  knitted  and  tliought 
over  the  matter,  as  was  her  placid  wont  on  every 
subject,  before  she  spoke  out.  It  was  not  alto- 
gether so  clear. 

"  I  have  thought  of  the  hotel,  of  Ferguson,  of 
Dr.  Warner,  even  of  Colonel  Ret  Roberts,  be- 
sides every  other  jjlace  possible,"  said  Guy 
Brooks,  after  a  somewhat  despondent  silence. 
"It  ought  to  be  in  the  family  of  a  member  of 
the  church  if  jiossible." 

"How  old  did  you  say  he  was?  or  did  you 
say  any  thing  at  all  on  the  subject?"  asked  Mrs. 
Sorel,  at  length. 

"I  do  not  know,  somewhere  under  thirty,  I 
suppose.  You  remember  I  never  saw  him,"  said 
the  lawyer.  "  Ferguson,  Warner,  Ellis,  and  my- 
self wrote  to  the  head  of  the  Theological  Semi- 
nary to  recommend  some  one  to  us  for  the  pur- 
pose  of  organizing  a  church  here.  In  reply  Mr. 
Arthur  was  warmly  urged  upon  us ;  we  corre- 
sponded with  him,  he  says  he  will  come;  that  is 
all  wc  know  of  liim." 

"Have  you  thought  of  Jlrs.  Bowles?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Sorel,  at  length. 

"The  very  person!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer, 
rising  to  his  feet.  "  Strange  I  never  once 
thought  of  her.  That  is,  if  she  will  consent. 
You  know-  what  a  delicate,  retiring  lady  she  is. 
Besides,  it  would  be  an  assistance  to  her,  his 
boarding  with  her.  Yes,"  added  the  lawyer, 
with  enthusiasm,  "  and  there  is  the  office  Rut- 
ledge  Bowles  occupied  before  he  went  to  college 
in  the  corner  of  the  yard.  The  very  thing  !  She 
is  a  member  of  the  proposed  church,  too.  I  do 
not  think  she  would  consent  to  the  arrangement 
except  on  that  ground.  I  will  see  her  right 
away."     And  the  lawyer  took  his  hat  to  leave. 

"There  miglit  be  one  objection,"  said  Mre. 
Sorel,  accompanying  her  visitor  to  the  door. 

"  What,  what  can  it  be  ?"  inquired  he,  turn- 
ing suddenly.  Mrs.  Sorel  smiled  demurely  and 
continued  knitting. 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  said  the  lawyer,  looking  at 
her  first,  inquiringly,  and  then  with  a  smile 
breaking  over  his  wholesome  face:  "Beg  your 
pardon,  I  didn't  mean  to  use  such  language,  Mrs. 
Sorel.  But  you  never  fear.  We  men,  especial- 
ly in  such  a  new  jjlace  as  Somerville,  with  every 
thing  before  us  to  do,  have  no  time  to  think 
about  such  things.  You  ladies  flatter  your- 
selves; really,  I  beg  ])ardon  again,"  said  the 
frank  lawyer,  laughing  at  himself. 

"Do  we,  Mr.  Brooks?  Well,  perhaps  we 
do,"  said  quiet  Mrs.  Sorel,  not  at  all  cast  down 
— quite  confident  rather. 

"You  would  not  really  advise  against  Mrs. 


44 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Bowles  on  that  account?"  asked  the  lawyer,  seri- 
ously, pausing  hat  in  hand  ujjon  the  front  step. 

"By  no  means,  or  I  should  not  have  men- 
tioned it.  Yes,  see  her,  and  see  what  you  can 
do.  Don't  let  me  detain  you.  Good-evening  I'' 
But  the  wise,  placid  smile  was  still  on  her  face 
as  she  said  it. 

"  Stuff,  nonsense!  It  is  to  be  hoped  he  will 
find  too  much  to  do  to  tliink  of  sucli  tliiiij^s ! 
Oh  these  women,  they  think  men  never  think 
of  any  tiling  else  ;  sensible  lady  like  Mrs.  Sorel, 
too!  Get  up,  Charley!"  and  with  an  unneces- 
sary cut  of  his  whip  the  Kentuckian  cantered 
back  into  Somcrville. 

Mrs.  Bowles  came  into  the  arrangement  the 
moment  the  lawyer  mentioned  it,  which  he  did 
with  characteristic  promptitude  that  same  even- 
ing. 

But  it  was  after  having  most  clearly  and  dis- 
tinctly ascertained  from  the  lawyer  tliat  the  ex- 
pected minister  was  not  from  the  North,  but 
from  Virginia,  bom,  raised,  educated  there. 
Good !  If  any  s])ot  on  the  globe  could  be  said 
to  stand  next  to  South  Carolina,  in  Mrs. Bowles's 
estimation,  it  was  Virginia.  "Though  I  have  a 
great  admiration  for  Kentucky  also,"  Mrs.  Bowles 
said,  with  the  charming  condescension  of  the 
daughter  of  a  hundred  Earls  to  a  newly-knight- 
ed Baronet. 

"If  he  will  consent  to  live  plainly  there  will 
be  no  inconvenience  to  us  at  all,"  she  said  to 
him  immediately  thereafter,  "I  have  been  so 
long  without  seeing  even  a  minister  of  my  own 
church  that  it  will  be  a  treat  to  me  to  have  him. 
There  is  Ilutledge  Bowles's  ofiice.  We  can  put 
.  a  bed  in  there  for  him,  you  know.  It  will  do 
for  his  study,  too.  If  I  do  not  like  the  arrange- 
ment afterward,  you  know,  we  can  make  a 
change.  But  I  am  sure  we  will  like  it — yes,  I 
am  quite  sure  of  ii!"  and  excellent  Mrs.  Bowles 
was  almost  enthusiastic  upon  the  subject,  great- 
ly to  the  delight  of  her  visitor. 

The  truth  is,  Mrs.  Bowles  was  enthusiastic  in 
every  thing.  If  she  liked  any  thing  or  person 
she  liked  enthusiastically — could  not  see,  would 
not  hear  or  believe  any  thing  to  the  contraiy. 
And,  it  must  be  addeJ,  if  she  disliked  she  dis- 
liked as  sincerely  and  vehemently  as  her  piety 
would  permit.  It  so  happened  that  Mrs.  Sorel 
and  herself  were  from  the  same  neighborhood  in 
South  Carolina,  had  been  school-girls  together. 
Yet  it  was  singular  that  the  same  soil  could  pro- 
duce two  persons  so  unlike.  I\Irs.  Sorel  tall,  dig- 
nified, grave,  self-possessed  ;  Mrs.  Bowles  rather 
petite  and  spirituel  in  face  and  figure,  uncon- 
strained, full  of  lively  fancies,  imjiulsive,  quick- 
spoken.  Both  were  thoroughly  ladies  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  term — strongly  attached  to 
each  other  from  memories  of  their  childhood, 
still  more  from  contrast  of  character,  for  while 
Mrs.  Sorel  could  not  but  love  the  ardent  and 
warm-spoken  widow,  so  sincere  and  free  in  eveiy 


thought  and  feeling,  Mrs.  Bowles  could  not  but 
feel  a  warm  affection  for  one  in  whose  judgment, 
strong  sense,  sober  speech  she  had  long  learned 
to  have  the  deepest  confidence.  She  had  long 
been  in  the  habit  of  consulting  Mrs.  Sorel  in 
every  thing  of  imjwrtancc — much  more  so  since 
the  death  of  her  husband,  the  Major. 

I  wisli  our  story  could  pause  long  enough  to 
permit  us  to  say  a  little,  or  rather  a  good  deal 
about  Major  J.  C.  Bowles.  You  can  gather  all 
you  may  wish  to  know  of  his  character  and  his- 
tory by  turning  to  any  book  of  national  portraits. 
You  will  find  him  there  among  the  politicians  of 
South  Carolina  of  some  forty  years  ago.  A  state- 
ly gentleman  he  appears  to  have  been  from  the 
somewhat  stiff  portrait  in  question,  the  half- 
length  painting,  from  which  it  was  taken,  hang- 
ing in  silent  grandeur  in  the  parlor  at  Somcr- 
ville. Often  did  the  young  minister  sit  in  that 
"j)arlor  of  summer  afternoons  and  study,  not  only 
the  biography  of  the  man  himself,  but  a  vast  deal 
of  national  history,  too,  in  that  imposing  por- 
traiture. 

Evidently  a  commanding  man  the  Major  was, 
with  his  high  rolled  collar,  huge  cravat  beneath 
his  chin,  and  the  locks  brushed  away  from  the 
broad  forehead,  only  a  blue  ribbon  across  the 
bosom  lacking  to  make  it  pass  as  the  likeness 
of  a  royal  duke.  The  i)ainting  in  question  rep- 
resented him  thus :  the  gold-headed  cane  pre- 
sented him  by  his  constituents  after  his  great 
speech  in  Congress  resting  between  his  knees, 
the  sword  wherewith  his  father  had  fought  in 
the  Revolution  hanging  on  the  wall  behind  him, 
St.  Michael's  Church  visible  through  the  win- 
dow, to  show  the  portrait  was  taken  in  Charles- 
ton. But  you  can  see  it  all  for  yourself,  dear 
reader,  by  turning  to  the  volume  in  question, 
and  his  life  besides  on  the  next  page. 

Let  us  halt  here  long  enough,  however,  to  say 
at  least  this :  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  and  Major 
J.  C.  Bowles  were  as  exactly  alike,  and  as  ut- 
terly, eternally,  and  irreconcilably  unlike,  as 
any  two  men  can  possibly  be.  Both  were  ap- 
parently gentlemen  of  the  highest  type  of  breed- 
ing and  courtesy,  yet  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  was 
only  superficially  so ;  it  was  as  natural  to  him 
as  a  suit  of  the  superfinest  broadcloth  is  to  a 
prince,  and  as  much  a  thing  apart  from  and  ex- 
ternal to  his  real  self  as  such  a  suit.  I\Iajor  J. 
C.  Bowles  was  a  genuine  gentleman  to  the  cen- 
tre of  his  soul.  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  was  a  tal- 
ented, highly  talented  man.  Major  J.  C.  Bowles 
was  not,  even  a  little  dull.  With  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts,  the  Major  believed  to  the  hour  of  his 
death  that  South  Carolina  was  the  first  State  on 
the  continent — in  the  world,  in  fact ;  unlike  the 
Colonel,  however,  the  Major  never  in  his  life 
cursed  and  commended  to  eternal  perdition,  as 
the  Colonel  did  every  day  of  his  life,  whoever 
and  whatsoever  was  in  conflict  with  him  on  this 
point.     That  Calhoun  was  the  superior  of  Web- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


46 


ster  Slajor  Bowles  never  entertained  the  slight- 
est doubt ;  yet  Webster  was  a  rational,  respect- 
able, jieriiaj)S  conscientious  individual.  This  tlie 
Major  sincerely  believed,  while  the  Colonel  did 
not — or,  at  least,  swore  he  did  not.  Tliat  the 
"peculiar  institution"  was  morally,  socially,  re- 
lipously,  politically,  eternally  right,  the  essen- 
tial foundation  of  all  correct  government,  a  thing 
to  exist  forever  and  ever  by  ordinance  like  tliat 
which  rolls  the  stars,  both  heartily  believed  ; 
yet  Major  Bowles  fed,  clothed,  cared  for  his  ne- 
groes like  the  Christian  gentleman  he  was ;  see- 
ing himself  to  it,  with  n  deep  sense  of  responsi- 
bility, that  they  were  not  overworked  nor  their 
religious  instruction  neglected.  Colonel  Ket 
Roberts,  on  the  other  hand,  believed  and  acted 
in  over}'  sense  in  the  belief  that  his  negroes  were 
only  speaking  animals,  to  be  worked  to  the  ut- 
most by  the  strictest  overseers.  However,  as 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts  had  but  scant  reference 
himself  to  his  own  liigher  nature  as  an  immortal 
being  made  in  the  image  of  his  Maker,  you 
could  not  reasonably  su])pose  he  should  imagine 
any  sucli  thing  for  an  instant  in  reference  to  his 
slaves.  When  in  good-humor  he  would  treat 
them  to  tobacco,  whisky,  and  all  manner  of 
frolics  and  idleness ;  but  with  the  same  feeling 
toward  them  in  good-humor  as  in  bad,  that  they 
were  but  animals,  worth  no  more  thouglit  than 
the  horses  in  his  stable,  petted  as  such,  beaten 
as  such. 

Major  Bowles  had  no  specially  rigid  notions 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  yet  he  was  not  an 
avowed  and  insolent  scoffer  at  it  like  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts ;  even  attended  church,  at  least  oc- 
casionally, a  thing  that  Lamum  never  could  in- 
duce the  Colonel  to  do  even  when  the  most  im- 
portant ])olitical  object  was  at  stake.     Nor  did 
Major  Bowles  admire  any  Puritanism  in  regard 
.to  morals ;  yet  he  never  would  have  soiled  his 
fingers  with   the  greasy  cards,  the  dirty  dice- 
box,  the  dripping  gin-tumbler  with  which  Col- 
onel Ret  Roberts  was  familiar,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  profanity,   obscenity,  and  practical  de- 
bauchery which  peopled  the  Colonel's  plantation 
with  his  mulatto  offspring,  as  much  to  the  Col- 
onel, and  no  more,  than  the  pupjiics  littered  in 
his  kennels.     And  the  Major  had  as  supreme  an 
adoration  for  honor  as  the  Colonel ;  but  it  was  a 
principle  which  would  have  made  him  blush  to 
leave  a  debt  unpaid,  or  to  do  even  a  deed  of 
doubtful  honesty,  wherein  the  Colonel  differed 
from  him  amazingly  in  practice.     As  behooved 
gentlemen  of  honor,  both  had  "been  out"  with 
an  antagonist.     The  Major  had  gone  out  only 
when  grossly  insulted,  and  then  had  coldly  re- 
ceived his  enemy's  fire  with  erect  bearing,  after- 
ward firing  into  the  air.     The  Colonel,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  ever  been  the  one  provoking 
the  quarrel,  and  then  eager  on  the  field  to  kill ; 
in  which,  to  the  number  of  some  five  or  six 
foes,  he  had  been  remarkably  successful. 


But  why  speak  of  Major  J.  C.  Bowles  ?  Did 
he  not  waste  his  estate  witii  too  i)rodigal  an  lios- 
pitality,  too  utter  a  devotion  to  politics,  and  so 
subside,  in  his  later  years,  first  into  what  re- 
mained of  his  large  projierty,  a  small  home  in 
Cliarleston,  and  a  practice  at  tiie  bar,  for  which 
he  had  become  too  old  or  too  unused  by  jiolitical 
life  to  succeed,  and  then  into  his  grave  there  in 
St.  Micliad's  church-yard  ?  Had  he  but  had 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts's — wlutt  shall  we  call  it? — 
some  higldy-polishcd  synonym  for  rascality,  he 
would  not  have  lost  acre  or  negro.  However, 
so  it  was. 

When  somewhat  advanced  in  life  the  JIajor 
married  his  wife,  of  as  distinguished  and  of  as 
decayed  a  family  as  his  own.  A  son  and  a 
daughter  were  the  children  of  his  old  age — Rut- 
ledge  and  Alice.  Tlicse  were  both  but  children 
when,  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  Mrs. 
Bowles  moved  out  westward  and  settled  in  Som- 
crville.  The  Major  owned  lands  there  ;  Mrs. 
Bowles  could  not  endure  to  take  a  lower  rank  in 
Charleston  than  her  husband  had  once  occupied. 
Mrs.  bjorel  hud  preceded  her,  and  had  written, 
urging  to  the  step.  So  it  was,  that,  at  the  date 
of  our  stor}-,  Mrs.  Bowles  was  living  in  her  neat 
little  cottage-home  on  the  edge  of  Somerville. 
She  had  left  South  Carolina,  it  is  true,  but  the 
soil  was  all  of  the  State  she  had  left  behind  her. 
The  young  minister  learned  all  tliis,  bit  by  bit, 
after  his  arrival.  Welcomed  at  the  hotel  door, 
as  he  stepped  from  the  stage,  by  Guy  Brooks,  he 
and  the  lawyer  were  at  home  with  eacli  other 
from  that  moment ;  for  where  people  are  sincere 
they  understand  each  other  from  the  first  sight 
of  each  other's  face,  from  the  first  grasp  of  each 
other's  hand.  The  energetic  lawyer  had  his 
new  possession  into  his  chamber  in  a  moment ; 
and  had  him  brushed,  dined,  and  introduced  to 
Ferguson,  Warner,  Ellis,  and  half  a  dozen  more, 
within  the  hour  of  his  arrival. 

"You  must  feel  j-ourself  at  home  with  us,"  he 
said  to  him,  in  his  frank,  hearty  way.  "We  are 
all  fragments  of  the  church  that  is  to  be.  Dr. 
Warner  here  is  ready  to  doctor  you  the  moment 
you  say  the  word.  Mr.  Ellis  has  a  store  down 
town,  a  good  place  to  drop  into  to  get  acquaint- 
ed with  people.  Ferguson  here — well,  Mr.  Fer- 
guson can  post  you  on  the  subject  of  Infant  Bap- 
tism, if  you  need  it  at  all.  I  am  the  only  one 
not  of  much  use.     However  !" 

"  Somewhat  too  young  for  my  fancy  ;  it  isn't 
a  fair-cheeked,  brown-haired  girl  we  wanted  for 
such  a  place  as  this  rougli  and  unchristianized 
Somerville,"  growled  Mr.  Ferguson  to  himself, 
as  he  went  back  to  his  room. 

The  afternoon  of  his  arrival—  "  Why  not  ?"  the 
lawyer  said  to  himself^^NIr.  Arthur  was  carried 
over  to  Mrs.  Bowles  to  be  introduced,  the  law- 
yer explaining  matters  to  him  as  they  walked 
over. 

"What  a  neat,  home-like  place!"  the  new- 


46 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"AND   ARTHUR  WAS  IN   LOVE." 


comer  said  to  himself,  as  they  entered  the  front 
gate  and  advanced  along  the  graveled  walk  be- 
tween the  altheas  and  rose-bushes  to  the  door. 
Like  all  houses  at  the  South  not  built  by  people 
direct  from  the  North,  a  goodly  portico  was  in 


front  of  the  residence,  admitting  to  a  hall  into 
which  rooms  communicated  on  cither  side.  It 
was  a  May  morning  when  the  new-comer  stood 
there,  inhaliug  the  fragrance  of  jasmine  and 
mimosa,  glancing  around  at  the  many  evidences 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


47 


of  a  refined  taste  on  every  side,  while  they  waited 
for  the  door  to  be  opened.  With  Mrs.  Bowks, 
a  few  niouieiits  after,  so  warm-hearted  and  eord- 
ial  iu  her  sables  and  gray  hair,  the  young  min- 
ister felt  himself  at  once  at  home  and  at  ease — 
there  is  so  much,  so  exceedingly  nuieli,  in  re- 
finement when  warmed  by  a  glowing  heart! 

''I  have  but  a  small  family,  Mr.  Arthur,"  she 
said,  at  last.  '•  Uutledgu  Bowles,  my  only  son, 
is  at  college  in  Columbia."  Mrs.  Bowles  did 
not  say,  "Colundiia,  South  Carolina,"  because 
to  her  there  was  but  that  one  Columiiia  in  the 
world.  "Jly  daughter  Alice — "  she  began  ;  but 
at  that  instant  the  front  gate  was  heard  to  slam, 
hasty  steps  succeeded  along  the  gravel,  and  a 
young  girl  threw  ojien  the  parlor  door,  with  sun- 
bonnet  in  one  hand,  school-books  in  the  other, 
her  hair  about  her  glowing  face. 

And  the  Itev.  Edward  Arthur  was  in  love  1 


SEEKING    DlVINi:   UDIDAKOE. 


CHAPTEK  Vir. 

Let  us  linger  a  few  moments  longer  before 
we  plunge  again  into  the  stormy  epoch  of  Se- 
cession with  which  these  pages  began.  We  will 
loiter  but  a  moment.  Heaven  knows  Secession 
will  come  soon  enough. 

Blessed  forever  be  the  quickening  of  the  sap 
in  the  veins,  the  i)utting  forth  of  leaves  and  ten- 
der blossoms  hued  like  the  rainbow,  the  eager 


joy  of  beginning  the  earliest  rudiments  of  future 
fruit — the  sining-timc  of  youth!  Never  physi- 
cian entered  upon  the  case  of  his  lirst  patient, 
never  lawyer  undertook  the  business  of  his  first 
client,  never  painter  began  his  iiist  painting,  nor 
sculptor  his  first  statue,  nor  jioet  his  (irst  jjoem, 
with  more  eagerness  than  did  the  young  minis- 
ter engage  in  his  new  charge.  Only  his  was  a 
diviner  joy  than  theirs,  as  his  work  \vas  a  diviner 
work.  He  had  dreamed  of  it  all  wliile  yet  a 
boy,  for,  from  his  earliest  remembrance,  the  min- 
istry had  been  the  junpose  of  his  life.  A  hun- 
dred times  had  he  j)lanned  exactly  what  he  would 
do,  and  what  he  would  most  carefully  not  do, 
after  liaving  charge,  while  yet  in  college.  As 
to  his  three  years  in  the  Theological  Seminary, 
not  a  day  but  he  had  determined  upon  some 
new  evil  to  be  avoided  in  his  future  ministry, 
upon  some  new  virtue  to  be  i)racticed.  During 
all  the  long  years  going  before,  he  had  never 
known  one  of  his  own  projwsed  jjrofession,  thrown 
with  him  in  biograjdiy  or  in  person,  but  he  had 
said  to  himself,  "By  the  help  of  God,  when  I 
enter  the  ministry,  I  will  never,  never  be  this 
and  that  as  I  see  it  in  this  individual.  God 
helping  me,  even  this  heroism,  this  habit,  this 
success  which  adorns  this  man  shall  be  e(]ualed, 
if  it  please  God,  surpassed,  when  /  am  fairly 
upon  the  stage." 

That  memorable  morning  after  his  arrival  in 
Somerville,  when  he  awoke  in  Ilutledge  Bowles's 
office,  there  in  Mrs.  Bowles's  front  yard,  it  was  a 
feeling  half  of  pleasure  and  half  of  terror  with 
which  he  realized  that  his  life's  business,  for 
which  he  had  been  so  long  training,  praying, 
dreaming,  was  at  last  fairly  entered  upon.  Ah, 
how  fervently  did  he  pray  for  aid  as  he  knelt  be- 
side his  neat  bed !  What  expressions  of  his  own 
inability  to  do  aught  unaided  on  his  lips,  and  what 
perfect  confidence  of  being  able  to  accomplish 
every  thing  throbbing  the  same  instant  in  his 
heart !  No  patriarch  more  dignified  than  he  in 
conducting  fiimily  worship  that  morning  in  Mrs. 
Bowles's  parlor  beneath  the  steady  stare  of  the 
old  Major  from  his  gilded  frame,  Mrs.  Bowles  in 
her  low  sewing-chair,  her  daughter  Alice  upon 
an  ottoman  at  her  feet,  and  the  two  family  serv- 
ants seated  solemnly  near  the  door.  Had  he 
persisted,  as  he  began,  in  reading  the  chapter 
expressly  and  definitely  to  Mrs.  Bowles  and  her 
daughter,  his  manner  would  have  continued  ar- 
tificial ;  but,  from  long  habit,  after  the  -first  six 
or  eight  verses,  he  became  deeply  and  devotion- 
ally  interested  in  the  words,  and  read  them  ac- 
cordingly. And  so  of  his  prayer :  nothing  could 
be  more  natural  because  nothing  could  be  more 
sincere.  Were  it  only  for  the  effect  of  it  on 
one's  consequent  bearing  toward  his  fellows,  it 
is  an  admirable  thing  to  possess  a  dcej)  and  habit- 
ual reference  to,  and  heart-felt  belief  in,  One  su- 
premely above  the  whole  of  us. 

"The  head  of  the  table,  did  you  say?"  asked 


43 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ARTHUR'S  FIRST  MEAL  AT  Mbs.  BOWLES'S. 

Mr.  Arthur  a  few  minutes  after,  as  they  were  I      It  was  a   dreadful  moment   for   the  bashful 
seating  themselves  at  the  breakfast-table.  theologian,  fresh  from  the  barbarism  of  three 

"  If  you  please,  Mr.  Arthur,  the  foot  of  the  years'  eating  with  slouched  and  slipshod  com- 
table,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles,  with  a  slight  South  i  panions  in  the  seminarj'  refectory.  His  cheeks 
Carolinianism  of  stress  upon  the  word.  1  burned,  and  Alice's  eyes  danced  with  fun.     But 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


49 


iill  the  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  in  the  world 
can  not  destroy  the  true  gcntlcnian  iu  a  man 
where  it  exists  by  nnture. 

'•You  must  jiartlon  nic,  Mrs.  Bowles,"  he 
said,  with  a  frank  smile,  after  jjronounciiig  the 
blessinp,  and  with  perfect  ease  of  manner;  "but 
I  liave  been  living  for  tlie  last  several  years  like 
a  sort  of  Kobinson  Crusoe  upon  a  species  of 
desert  island." 

"  Yes  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Bowles,  to  whom  his  man- 
ner was  i\s  an  ()|)en  Sesame,  while  Alice's  mirth 
became  diminished  as  she  found  it  shared  with 
their  jjiiest  himself.  And  so,  during  tiie  j)auses 
of  the  breakfast,  their  new  acquaintance  gave 
them  in  a  humorous  manner  some  description 
of  his  scholastic  life.  It  was  doubly  interesting 
to  the  mother  from  the  fact  that  her  son  was  at 
college  in  Columbia. 

"Really,  Mr.  Arthur,"  she  said,  at  last,  "it 
is  almost  like  having  Rutledgc  Bowles  on  a  visit 
home  from  Columbia.  He  always  occupied  since 
the  death  of  his  father  the  scat  you  are  now  in. 
You  remind  me  of  him,  I  assure  you."  Higher 
compliment  than  that  no  new  acquaintance  could 
receive  from  her  lips.  "  Y'ou  were  not  educated 
at  Columbia,  Mr.  Arthur?" 

"At  Hampden  Sydney,  Madam,"  replied  her 
guest. 

"In  Virginia,  I  think  it  is?"  asked  she. 
Not  quite  as  low  down  as  Yale  or  Princeton ; 
however,  he  was  not  to  blame,  she  felt  sure. 
Mr.  Arthur  replies  in  the  affirmative.  ' '  You  are 
a  native  of  Virginia,  I  think?" 

"Y'es,  Madam." 

"Y'ou  did  right,  quite  right  to  enter  an  insti- 
tution in  your  own  State,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles, 
glad  to  find  a  defense  for  him.  "I  dare  say 
they  are  not  so  extravagantly  expensive  where 
you  were  educated.  I  am  almost  shocked  at 
Rutledge  Bowles's  expenditure.  I  suppose, 
however,  his  situation  in  such  a  place  as  Co- 
lumbia requires  greater  expense  than  in  other 
places." 

And  terribly  expensive  the  fond  mother  did 
find  her  son's  education  there ;  but  she  stinted 
herself  proudly  for  it;  she  mentioned  it  with 
unconscious  pride  in  her  tones ;  it  was  part  and 
parrel  of  being  at  Columbia. 

"Though,  while  we  are  upon  the  subject, 
there  is  one  thing  in  regard  to  Columbia  I  have 
never  yet  fully  understood,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles, 
after  a  while.  "Rutledge  Bowles  has  explained 
it  to  me  over  and  over  again  in  his  letters — the 
perpetual  revolutions  in  the  College,  I  mean. 
From  what  Rutledge  Bowles  writes  it  has  been 
impossible  for  the  students  to  pursue,  consistent- 
ly with  their  own  honor,  any  other  course.  It 
seems  strange  that  the  many  Faculties  of  the 
College  can  not  come  to  underetand,  any  of 
them,  what  the  youth  of  South  Carolina  are, 
and  what  they  will  not  submit  to.  Strange!  It 
is  a  great  interruption  to  the  studies,  I  fear.  I 
D 


know  very  little  of  the  institutions  out  of  the 
State ;  but  I  fear  it  is  something  peculiar  to  Co- 
lumbia," said  airs.  Bowles,  though  her  fear 
sounded  far  more  like  ])ride. 

Y'es,  in  the  history,  eventful  enough,  of  the 
College  of  South  Carolina,  at  Columbia,  vou 
have,  in  epitome,  the  character  and  history  of 
the  State  itself.  Self-will,  contempt  for  rightful 
authority,  reckless  disregard  of  every  thing  ex- 
cept the  selfish  ab.stractiou  of  the  hour  I  Gallant, 
generous,  high-toned  youth,  t/iei/  yield  their  own 
notions  to  that  of  their  Faculty  ?  No,  Sir !  Rath- 
er than  that,  let  the  institution  be  wrecked  to  its 
foundation !  Rather  than  that,  let  their  own 
education,  and  consecjuent  success  in  life,  per- 
ish !  Sec  the  same  youth  when  grown  a  few 
inches  higher  in  stature  and  immeasurably  more 
generous,  gallant,  high-toned,  and  all  the  rest; 
t/iey  submit  their  own  ideas  to  the  superior  au- 
thority of  the  General  Government?  they  yield 
a  hair's -breadth  frotn  their  own  heated  view 
of  tiicir  own  rights  and  wrongs — imprescriptible 
rigiits,  infinite  wrongs?  By  all  that  elevates  the 
man  above  the  brute  and  the  negro,  never,  Mr. 
Speaker,  never!  Rather,  Sir,  let  the  General 
Government  be  wrecked  till  not  a  spar  floats  to 
tell  where  once  it  sailed !  Rather  jicrish  the 
hope  of  the  human  race !  Above  all,  rather, 
Mr.  Speaker,  we  of  South  Carolina  lose  eveiy 
negro  from  our  fields,  every  cent  from  our  cof- 
fers, every  city  from  our  soil,  every  son  on  the 
field  of  battle  from  our  hearth-stones !  Perish 
the  universe  and  we.  Sir,  we  with  it,  rather  than 
it  move  save  as  we  intend  it  shall  move !  From 
his  birth  to  his  death  never  in  the  ages  such  a 
conspiracy  as  against  your  South  Carolinian. 
Nurse,  parent,  schoolmaster.  College  Faculty, 
General  Government,  opinion  of  C'hristendom, 
course  of  God's  eternal  providence — one  early- 
begun,  universal,  incessant  combination  against 
him.  But  not  more  magnificent  the  coalition 
than  the  defiance  thereof  on  his  part ! 

Poor  Mrs.  Bowles !  From  its  foundation  was 
practical  Secession  the  incidental  but  leading 
part  of  the  Columbia  Curriculum,  and  well  was 
the  lesson  learned.  The  yellow-fever  is,  they 
say,  a  standing  affair  in  Cuba;  and  there  lives 
scarce  a  man  beside  the  Pedees,  the  Congaree, 
the  Edisto,  and  the  Cooper  and  Ashley  but  in- 
haled Secession  as  his  vital  atmosphere.  It  was 
too  strong  even  for  the  Gospel.  Heaven  defend 
us,  even  in  the  conventions  of  religious  bodies. 
It  was:  Mr.  Chairman,  Mr.  Moderator,  it  is 
painful  to  us.  Sir,  it  is  very  painful,  but  on  this 
l)oint  we  can  not  yield.  No  one  can  regret  it 
more  than  ourselves,  but,  if  brethren  ici//  press 
this  point,  there  is,  Sir,  but  one  course  left  us — 
In  seculiE  seculorumque,  aut  South  Carolina  aut 
nulliis. 

Sturdy,  wrong-headed  little  State !  Look  at  it 
on  the  map  there,  altogether  unlike  North  Car- 
olina even  on  the  one  side,  and  Georgia  on  the 


'>0 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


other;  tonph,  three-sided  fragment  of  medie- 
val granite,  refusing  to  be  dissolved  or  to  lose 
an  an^Ie  even  in  tiie  rolling  of  the  great  waters 
of  progress;  requiring  soniuthing  besides  tlie  si- 
lent, serene  processes  of  nature  by  wiiich  the 
craggy  mountains  are  being  melted  slowly  down 
and  the  rough  globe  rounded  into  shajjc ;  re- 
quiring the  extra  force  and  fury  as  of  waters  too 
long  and  too  obstinately  dammed  back  from  their 
natural  and  inevitable  course.  Every  soul  of  us, 
however,  admires  the  South  Carolinian  at  last. 
Only  let  him  be  master,  and  a  truer  gentleman 
never  breathed.  The  Hardkoppig  Veit  in  him 
is  hidden  under  the  Bayard,  the  Coeur  de  Leon. 
He  is  only  a  hundred  years  or  so  out  of  place, 
that  is  all.  There  is  nothing  to  laugh  at  in  Don 
Quixote  except  his  living  a  century  or  two  too 
late.  Even  then  it  is  with  pain  that  we  smile 
at  the  ancient  armor,  language  defiant  of  tlie 
universe,  and,  most  sorrowful  of  all,  poor  old 
Rosinante  which  bears  him  up! 

But  Mrs.  Bowles  has  made  us  forget  ourselves. 

Breakfast  over,  the  Rev.  Edward  Arthur  sal- 
lied out  into  Somerville  and  his  new  life.  Be- 
fore night  he  had  been  introduced  to  more  per- 
sons than  during  his  entire  academical  course. 
"  If  I  can  only  remember  all  their  names!"  he 
thought.  And  all  along,  as  he  went  here  and 
there  over  Somerville,  he  had  it  vaguely  afloat 
in  his  mind,  "  Oh,  if  I  can  but  exert  a  new  in- 
fluence, an  influence  for  good,  a  divine  influence 
on  these !" 

So  pleased  was  his  manner,  so  unassuming, 
too,  that  the  impression  he  made  ui)on  all  was 
decidedly  in  his  favor.  It  was  not  particularly 
much  that  the  people  of  Somerville  cared  for 
preachers  ;  there  was  any  quantity  of  them  to  be 
seen  every  day  about  the  streets,  and  to  be  heard 
every  Sunday ;  yet  all  had  a  vague  respect  for 
the  special  denomination  to  which  the  new-comer 
belonged.  Besides,  education  and  piety  had  giv- 
en a  certain  elevation  to  the  countenance  and 
bearing  of  the  new  preacher.  As  to  that,  every 
thing  new  has  its  gloss,  we  know.  Very  faith- 
ful were  the  lawyer,  Mr.  Ellis,  Dr.  "Warner,  and 
his  other  immediate  friends  from  that  time,  not 
only  in  making  him  known  to  the  people,  but 
in  making  them  known  to  him  ;  and  all  such 
knowledge  kept  up  a  running  commentary  there- 
on in  the  mind  of  the  novice. 

"What  an  agreeable  gentleman  this  Mr. — 
Mr. — "  began  he,  on  parting  from  the  last  intro- 
duction one  day. 

"Simmons  —  not  Mr. —  Ciptain  Simmons. 
Don't  forget  the  Captain  part  of  his  name  when 
you  speak  to  him  next,"  said  the  lawyer,  who 
had  introduced  him. 

"What  an  agreeable  gentleman  the  Captain 
is !"  continued  the  young  minister.  "  You  heard 
what  he  said  about  having  led  the  choir  before 
moving  to  Somerville.  And  his  expressions  of 
regard  for  our  new  organization." 


"And  the  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  told  you 
about  his  good  old  father,  and  about  his  mo- 
ther's death-bed  and  dying  charge.  Umph,  yes; 
drinks,"  replied  the  lawyer.  Drinks?  And  the 
young  divine  had  on  the  instant  pluuucd  a  scries 
of  sermons  on  intemj)erance. 

'■  Mr.  Teters,  this  is  our  new  preacher,  Mr. 
Arthur ;  Mr.  Arthur,  this  is  Mr.  Peters,  a  mem- 
ber and  pillar  of  one  of  the  Somerville  church- 
es," interrupted  the  lawyer,  introducing  him  to 
a  tall,  spare,  white-haired  old  gentleman. 

"Don't  call  me  Mr.  Peters — Brother  Peters; 
and  yon  must  call  me  so  always,  Brotlier  Ar- 
thur," said  the  old  gentleman,  warmly  grasping 
and  holding  in  his  own  the  hand  extended  to 
him.  "  I  heard  you  had  come;  am  glad  to  sec 
you — glad  to  see  you.  And  you  ar^but  a  young 
hand  at  the  great  work — a  young  hand,  a  young 
hand,  Brother  Arthur.  You'll  find  it  a  hard 
field,  hard  field.  But  you  know  where  your 
help  is.  Bless  your  soul,  I  was  not  five  when  I 
joined,  not  five !  I've  been  about  a  good  deal 
since  then ;  seen  wonderful  tilings.  We  must 
get  better  acquainted.  Brother  Arthur,  better 
acquainted." 

"  Mr. — Brother  Peters  seems  to  be  a  warm 
Christian,"  said  Mr.  Arthur,  after  a  long  and 
cordial  conversation  with  his  new  acquaintance, 
during  the  latter  part  of  which  his  companion 
liad  endeavored  several  times,  but  in  vain,  to 
carry  him  away. 

"I  declare,"  said  the  lawyer  in  reply,  push- 
ing his  hat  back  off  his  forehead,  his  fingers 
lingering  indecisively  a  moment  behind  his  right 
ear  in  consideration,  "  I  do  not  know  whether 
to  leave  you  to  find  your  new  acquaintances  out 
or  not.  Besides,  I  don't  want  to  cast  a  damper 
on  you.     But  the  fact  is,  this  Brother  Peters — " 

"Does  not  drink,  I  hope?"  asked  his  com- 
panion, hastily. 

"Oh  no,"  replied  the  lawyer,  quick  to  deny 
such  a  charge.  "  Sober  as  you  or  I,  haid  work- 
ing, honest,  kind-hearted,  punctual  at  church 
as  can  be ;  nothing  in  the  world  against  him 
but  his  awful  lies.  Lying  Sam  Peters  is  his 
name  every  where.  He  knows  it  as  well  as  any 
one.  His  friends  have  talked  to  him  about  it, 
his  church  has  worked  with  him  for  years,  ev- 
ery new  preacher  they  get  makes  a  special  effort 
with  him ;  it  does  no  good.  He  has  lied  so  long 
it  has  become  his  nature  to  lie  whatever  he  may 
happen  to  be  speaking  about,  and  always.  Like 
an  old  swearer  and  his  oaths,  lying  Sam  Peters 
tells  falsehoods  from  morning  till  night  without 
knowing  it." 

Alas  !  that  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart  in  the 
bosom  of  the  young  minister.  It  is  a  painful 
thing  that  sinking  of  the  heart  in  the  bosom  of 
the  young  and  sanguine.  After  a  while  the  heart 
learns  to  beat  more  evenly  through  every  thing. 
"Ah,  yes,  Ananias  and  Sappliira,  the  sin  and 
the  penalty  of  falsehood  ;  I  must  preach  on  that 


INSIDE.— A  ClIKONICLE  OF  SECESSIUN. 


51 


subject,"  miirmureil  Mr.  Arthur  to  himself,  some 
relict'  in  that. 

lu  the  lourse  of  the  day  the  two  friends  came 
ui>oii  Brotlier  Barker,  to  whuiu  the  uew-ooiner 
was  made  known.  As  soon  au  it  could  be  con- 
veniently done — a  little  sooner,  in  fact — Brother 
Barker  felt  connielled  to  tell  iiis  new  brother  in 
the  ministry  that  there  wore  certain  doctrines 
held  by  tliat  new  brollier's  deiiuinination  whieli 
he  really  could  not  agree  with  liini  in  at  all; 
which,  in  fact,  he  regarded  as  against  Scripture 
and  common  sense,  anil  whicli  really — really  he 
regarded  as — but  he  would  not  wound  the  young 
brother's  feelings  by  saying  all  he  deeply,  very 
deeply  felt  on  the  subject ! 

"A  series  of  discoui-scs  establishing  our  pe- 
culiar doctrines,  and  ns  soon  as  possible.  Dear 
me,  how  much,  how  very  much  there  is  for  me 
to  do!"  thought  Mr.  Arthur,  as  he  parted  from 
his  new  friend. 

As  to  Brother  Barker,  the  arrival  of  the  new 
minister  precipitated  him  for  weeks  after  with  a 
vehemence  new  even  to  him  against  the  obnox- 
ious doctrines  in  question.  Tlie  sjjarc  frame  of 
the  zealous  Brother  fairly  dilated  with  their 
enormity,  as,  in  private  conversation  and  from 
the  pulpit,  he  fought  against  the  detestable  doc- 
trines, with  long,  muscular  arms,  gleaming  eyes, 
and  feet  in  incessant  motion  while  he  talked,  like 
an  athlete  in  the  arena. 

Before  the  week  was  over  the  young  divine 
had  seen  the  pressing  necessity  of  preparing,  and 
delivering  as  soon  as  possible,  sermons  innumer- 
able. He  had  incidentally  been  thrown  with 
Bob  Withers,  who  had  told  him  on  the  seconder 
third  interview  that  he  would  have  been  a  Chris- 
tian long  ago,  instead  of  "  the  regular  whisky- 
drinking,  card-playing,  cursing  and  swearing 
scamp,  by  George,  which  I  now  am,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur!" if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  gross  inconsist- 
encies he  had  observed,  by  George,  in  every 
single  professor,  by  George,  it  had  ever  been  his 
misfortune  to  meet  with  ;  not  one  single  excep- 
tion to  the  rule,  Sir,  not  one !  Strange  to  say, 
there  is  something  attractive  to  Mr.  Arthur  in 
the  round,  sensible,  good-humored  face  of  Mr. 
"Withers,  his  frank  eyes  and  sincere  manner. 
Although  there  is  a  glow  as  of  ripe  grapes  in 
Bob's  face,  it  is  a  vast  deal  sunnier  and  more 
pleasing  than,  in  Mr.  Arthur's  opinion.  Brother 
Barker's  dry  and  lean,  though  rigidly  correct, 
face.  And  that  he  must  jireaeh  a  sermon  warn- 
ing Christians  on  this  point  was  only  too  evi- 
dent to  the  youthful  theologian. 

Mr.  Ellis,  too — the  mild,  amiable,  humble  Mr. 
Ellis — whom  Mr.  Artluir  had  been  drawn  to 
from  his  first  acquaintance  with  him,  uninten- 
tionally even  he  had  aided  in  dam]>cning  some- 
what the  ardor  of  his  new  pastor.  In  answer  to 
inquiries  over  his  counter  at  the  store  on  the 
part  of  that  pa.<;tor,  he  pave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  the  main  obstacle  in  Somerville  to  the  spread 


of  religion  consisted  in  an  intense  worldliness. 
He  readily  agreed  with  his  pastor  that  here  wab 
the  grand  evil  to  be  aimed  at.  After  Mr.  Ar- 
thur liad  added  parental  neglect,  Sabbath  dese- 
cration, profanity,  infidelity,  and  a  score  more 
of  evils,  to  be  immediately  combated,  to  his  list 
he  was  fain  to  pause  from  the  enumeration. 

However,  if  he  lay  down  a  little  wearied  at 
night  witli  accomplishing,  in  imagination,  in 
Somerville  vastly  more  than  has  ever  yet  been 
accomplished  by  all  his  jirofession  put  together 
for  men  since  Christ  left  the  world,  nevertheless 
a  sound  night's  rest  sent  him  forth  next  morn- 
ing to  his  studies  and  into  Somerville  as  hopeful 
as  ever. 

And  so  the  new  church  was  duly  organized. 
It  was  a  small  organization,  very  small  indeed ; 
yet,  on  second  thought,  even  this  was  a  new 
pleiisure  to  the  ardent  pastor  to  know  into  what 
a  noble  size  the  church  was  to  grow  from  that 
little  seed.  And  those  who  were  its  members 
clustered  around  him  so  heartily,  too.  Ener- 
getic Guy  Brooks,  steady  Mr.  Ferguson,  smiling 
Dr.  Warner,  devoted  Mr.  Ellis.  Mrs.  Sorel,  too, 
punctual  as  the  clock  did  she  alight  every  Sab- 
bath morning  at  eight  o'clock  with  Robby,  her 
bright  little  boy — Frank  is  old  enough  to  have 
a  class,  and  is  there  before  her  on  his  pony — at 
the  door  of  the  little  school-house,  wliich  was 
answering  as  a  church  for  the  present,  in  time 
for  the  Sabbath-school  just  established.  Mrs. 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts^  too,  never  failed  of  being 
there  with  her  children.  A  thoroughly-inform- 
ed man  of  the  world  could  have  read  the  Col- 
onel's domestic  character  in  the  pale  cheek  and 
bowed  head  and  sorrowful  eyes  of  his  wife.  To 
Mr.  Arthur  she  was  but  an  estimable,  silent,  re- 
fined lady,  sorrowful  by  reason  of  ill-health. 
Ah,  how  devoted  she  was  to  her  children,  spe- 
cially to  her  boy  with  his  father's  superb  eyes 
and  bold  brow !  And  devoted  a  wife  but  natu- 
rally is  when  her  love  for  her  husband  is  spurn- 
ed, nothing  left  for  her  to  love  but  her  children ; 
doubly  devoted  to  them  she  well  may  be,  when 
all  her  care  is  required  to  undo  all  the  evil  in- 
fluence upon  them  of  their  father. 

Mrs.  Bowles,  too,  how  enthusiastic  she  was  in 
regard  to  the  new  enteqirise !  Mr.  Arthur  nev- 
er came  home  at  night  from  his  visiting  but  she 
had  something  new  and  hopeful  to  tell  in  con- 
nection with  the  church :  some  new  family  who 
had  said  they  would  send  their  children  next 
Sunday  to  Sunday-school ;  some  new  young 
man  whom  she  had  ascertained  to  have  had  ya- 
rents  in  connection  with  their  denomination,  and 
who  ought  to  be  looked  after;  some  bran-new 
young  lady  who  had  agreed  to  teach  in  the 
school.  Almost  every  night  it  was  late  after 
supper  before  her  guest,  as  enthusiastic  as  she, 
could  tear  himself  away  from  the  sitting-room  to 
go  to  his  little  office  in  the  yard.  At  la.«t  Mrs. 
Bowles  would  rim   in  upon  him   of  mornings 


52 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


there  in  the  midst  of  his  studies,  with  an  apolo- 
gy for  interrupting  him,  only  she  thought  he 
would  like  to  hear  this,  that,  and  the  other  en- 
couraging something  about  "our  church."  IIow 
much  the  novelty  of  tlie  thing;  how  much  a 
lively  competition  with  the  other  denominations 
in  the  place,  roused  by  Mr.  Arthur's  advent  into 
fresh  life  and  zeal,  had  to  do  with  all  this  on 
the  part  of  all  of  them,  no  man  shall  ask  and  no 
man  shall  answer  on  tiiese  premises.  Tis  in 
heaven  only  our  motives  will  be  perfectly  pure. 
But  unmingled  ?     No,  not  even  there. 

And  Alice,  too.  Mr.  Artiiur  saw  from  the 
portrait  of  the  old  Major  where  she  got  her  erect 
bearing  and  clear,  haughty  glance.  Haughty  is 
by  no  means  the  word,  but  aristocratic  would  be 
preposterous  in  this  free  land.  Modest  confi- 
dence, self-reliance,  independence,  queenliness, 
fearlessness — well,  tlie  language  lacks  the  exact 
word,  and  we  must  do  without.  The  reverend 
guest  had  taken  up  an  idea  that  this  black-hair- 
ed, quick-eyed,  open-browed  school-girl  must 
resemble  Joan  of  Arc,  say,  before  she  had  come 
out  into  the  world,  yet  not  unaware  of  herself 
even  then.  There  was  somewhat  of  the  angular- 
ity of  the  school-girl — likes  and  dislikes  sharply 
expressed,  undisguised  amusement  at  every  thing 
odd  in  any  person  whatever,  and  a  certain  some- 
thing in  her  manner  that  caused  the  guest  to 
feel  quite  sure  that  she — if  she  did  not  dislike 
him,  at  least  did  not  give  him  a  thought.  All 
this,  and  more,  in  her  kept  these  two  quite  apart 
from  each  other. 

The  idea  never  definitely  entered  the  head  of 
their  guest ;  yet,  if  his  heart  could  have  been 
taken  apart  and  accurately  weighed  piecemeal, 
it  would  have  been  found  that  this  school-girl 
all  these  days  was  to  him  decidedly  more  than 
all  the  world  besides.  You  may  say  it  was  be- 
cause he  had  to  love  some  one  of  her  sex  by  the 
necessity  of  his  nature,  and  she  happened  to  be 
the  nearest  and  most  convenient  one  to  him  for 
the  purpose.  It  may  be  so.  None  the  less  was 
the  unconscious  Alice  Bowles  that  person  in  all 
the  world  for  whom  he  most  cared.  Perhaps  if 
he  had  had  a  sister,  or  a  brother,  a  mother,  or 
even  a  father,  to  love,  it  would  have  been  differ- 
ent; but  he  was  without  these,  and  all  these  Alice 
was  to  him,  and  he  knowing  almost  nothing  of 
her  as  yet.     Yes,  it  was  foolishness  itself. 

It  took  him  a  long  time  to  keep  from  looking 
too  much  at  her  as  she  sat  on  her  low  seat  at 
night  studying  her  lessons  for  the  next  day, 
while  her  mother  conversed  with  their  guest. 
Her  face  had  not  settled  down  as  a  whole  into 
its  final  beauty,  but  her  lips  had — so  full,  so  red, 
so  eloquent  in  their  very  silence.  Once,  months 
after  his  arrival,  she  had  suddenly  raised  her 
eyes  with  an  exclamation  against  her  lesson,  and 
had  caught  his  eyes  fastened  upon  her  face.  But 
Mr.  Arthur  was  too  fast  even  for  her. 

' '  Had  I  met  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Bowles,  in 


London  or  New  York,  I  could  have  told  where 
she  was  born,"  he  said,  continuing  to  indulge 
the  look  under  cover  of  the  observation. 
"Yes?"  said  her  mother,  with  pleased  eyes. 
"  I  never  flatter,  Mrs.  Bowles ;  but  there  is 
a  certain  something  in  you  South  Carolinians 
which  marks  you  unmistakably,"  ho  continued. 
"But  i)ardon  me,  I  interrupted  a  remark  you 
were  making." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  mother,  abandoning 
the  old  theme  for  the  new.  "Only  what  you 
say  we  have  ever  regarded  as  a  matter  of  course. 
And  it  is  the  same  of  you  Virginians,"  said  Mi-s. 
Bowles,  in  tone  cheerfully  conceding  the  second 
rank  in  the  world  to  Virginia. 

"Why,  as  to  that.  Ma,  you  can  say  the  same 
of  any  one  from  New  England,"  said  the  school- 
girl, putting  back  her  hair  from  her  brow,  and 
letting  the  book  close  upon  her  lap. 

"Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  with 
a  meaning  smile ;  "and  we  can  always  tell  where 
an  Irisliman  is  from,  or  an  Esquimaux.  But 
Mr.  Arthur  left  something  more  favorable  to  be 
inferred  from  his  remark,  I  presume." 

"  Oh,  how  I  do  hate  the  Yankees !"  concurred 
the  daughter.  "There  is  that  Miss  Moulton  at 
school,  her  lips  pursed  up,  her  elbows  drawn 
down,  prim,  precise  old  maid ;  forever  talking 
about  her  dooty  toward  us  and  to  our  pa-rents, 
with  her  system  of  education,  rewards  of  merit, 
marks  of  approbation — " 

"  My  dear,  hush !  You  should  be  ashamed  of 
yourself!"  said  the  mother,  interrupting  her 
daughter's  mimicry  of  her  teacher's  words  and 
manner.  "You  must  remember  Miss  Moulton 
is  employed  as  your  teacher.  She  is  a  very  re- 
si)ectable  person,  I  know.  And  you  forget  that 
she  is  not  to  blame  for  her  place  of  birth.  They 
may  say  what  they  please  of  the  Yankees,"  con- 
tinued the  mother,  turning  with  charming  can- 
dor to  her  guest,  "  but  for  my  part  I  think  they 
are  extremely  useful  people  in  their  way.  I  can 
not  say  I  have  been  used  to  like  them  very 
much,  but  I  will  say  that.  We  had  at  one  time 
an  extremely  deserving  young  man  in  our  fam- 
ily in  South  Carolina  from  the  North  as  tutor 
for  Eutledge  Bowles.  I  am  afraid  Rutledge 
Bowles  did  not  make  his  situation  as  comfort- 
able as  it  should  be,  but  I  am  sure  the  young 
man  really  wished  to  be  of  service.  He  remain- 
ed but  a  short  time.  Rutledge  Bowles  disliked 
him;  treated  him,  in  fact,  so — so  scornfully  that 
we  were  compelled  to  dismiss  him." 

Again  we  touch  the  chord  whereby  we  at 
least  intended  this  chapter  should  be  keyed,  and 
repeat.  Blessed  be  the  spring-time  of  youth  ! 
How  swiftly  the  days  melted  into  weeks,  and 
the  weeks  into  months,  with  the  young  pastor. 
His  sermons  were  most  carefully  prepared — too 
directly  aimed  at  the  point  in  view  to  be  very 
rhetorical,  but  pleasing  from  their  evident  sin- 
cerity and  pith.     To  pay  more  attention  to  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


53 


fullness  and  flow  of  words  wns  a  lesson  ho  was 
afterward  to  learn.  It  was,  you  know,  as  lie 
(,'rew  old  that  Edmund  Burke  grew  so  sublimely 
rhetorical.  But  no  one  could  be  more  ignorant 
of  exactly  the  kind  of  sermon  he  was  to  preach 
on  any  occasion  than  was  the  preaclicr  himself. 
At  one  time  he  would  prepare  with  great  eaj^er- 
ness  some  special  liiscoursc,  to  fmd,  in  actually 
preaching  it,  that  it  was  nothing  sjwcial  at  all — 
the  revei-se  rather.  Again,  he  would  go  into 
the  pulpit  with  some  preparation  of  which  he 
was  heartily  ashamed,  to  find,  from  his  own 
feeling  and  the  evident  interest  of  the  congrega- 
tion, that  it  was  far  better  than  he  had  ever 
done  before.  One  Sabbath  when  he  would  count 
confidently  on  having  quite  a  crowded  congre- 
gation, he  would  be  chilled  to  tiic  soul  to  find 
but  a  small  one.  Another  Sabbath,  counting 
gloomily  u\K>n  but  a  sparse  attendance,  he  would 
be  encouraged  by  a  house  full.  Now  he  would 
l)C  led  to  count  assuredly  upon  certain  persons 
becoming  members  of  tlie  church,  to  be  disap- 
jK)inted  instead;  and  to  receive,  unexpectedly, 
persons  into  memljership  of  whom  he  had  never 
iioped  such  a  thing.  To-day  would-he  be  en- 
couraged by  the  unaccountable  presence  of  cer- 
tain individuals  at  church ;  and  on  the  next  oc- 
casion annoyed  by  the  unaccountable  absence 
of  others. 

This  week  he  would  attend  some  funeral,  and 
wonder  at  the  apathy  to  the  important  spiritual 
concerns  thus  brought  to  mind  on  the  part  of 
those  present ;  wondering  most  of  all  at  liis  own 
inability,  standing  beside  the  open  coffin,  with 
the  cold  face  beneath  his  hand,  to  set  forth,  as 
he  would,  those  spiritual  truths.  The  next  week 
would  be  illuminated  with  some  unexpected  or 
long-expected  wedding,  with  all-  the  incidents 
therewith  connected. 

And  there,  also,  was  the  pastoral  visitation ; 
the  conversing  with  persons  from  whom  all  the 
machinery  of  Archimedes  could  not  have  drawn 
out  more  than  Yes  and  No  during  the  interview. 
However,  there  was  jdacid,  sensible  Mrs.  Sorel ; 
practical  Guy  Brooks ;  delightful  Mr.  Ellis,  with 
whom  he  could  converse.  Crusty  as  Mr.  Fer- 
guson was,  too,  the  young  minister  soon  learned 
to  keep  plenty  of  sea-room  in  conversation  be- 
tween himself  and  the  Scotchman's  hidden  reefs ; 
learned  even  to  keep  aloof,  with  a  mariner's  in-  I 
stinct  of  a  storm,  from  the  Scotchman  altogeth- 
er when  that  Scotchman  was  all  reef  and  break- 
ers.    And  so  passed  the  days  along.  j 

Perhaps  there  was  not  one  thing  in  his  charge  ' 
in  the  least  degree  as  he  had  dreamed  it  would 
be — pleasures  and  pains  all  difterent;  yet  it  was 
a  great  work  and  a  good  work,  and  a  work  in 
which  he  laid  himself  out  with  joy.  The  very  ' 
buying  the  ground  for  the  new  church,  the  plan- 
ning of  the  building,  the  raising  the  money,  was 
an  epic  of  interest  for  months.  And  the  actual 
erection  of  the  edifice,  from  foundation  to  weath- 


er-vane,  it  was  a  daily  joy  and  rejoicing.  We 
say  nothing  of  his  intercourse  with  the  workmen 
during  this  period;  with  almost  every  nail  and 
shingle  and  plank  the  young  pastor  had  inti- 
mate accjuaintance  from  their  arrival  on  the 
ground  until  finally  adjusted  to  their  place. 

The  montlisof  ijicnicking — if  we  may  so  speak 
— in  the  covered  in  but  unfinished  church,  with 
loose  scantlings  on  trcssels  for  scats,  and  a  pine 
table  a  foot  across  for  pulj)it,  was  accompanied 
with  a  purer  j)leasure  than  the  worship  in  many 
a  stately  edifice  all  granite  and  walnut,  fresco 
and  velvet.  The  obtaining  of  the  church  bell, 
from  the  instant  of  the  conception  of  the  idea  in 
the  head  of  Mrs.  Bowles,  until  its  first  peal  rang 
ujjon  the  ears  so  attentive  to  hear  it  that  Sab- 
hath  morning,  was  one  long  and  pleasurable  ex- 
citement. And  the  painting,  pewing,  furnish- 
ing the  church  throughout,  in  which  the  ladies 
threw  themselves  with  their  inseparable  and  in- 
alienable love  for  adornment  in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions— was  that  a  matter  without  deep  interest 
to  the  pastor,  as  well  as  to  many  others  ?  There 
was  the  organizing  a  choir;  the  most  unexpect- 
ed discovery  of  Mr.  Ferguson's  s])lendid  bass,  a 
mere  growl  hitherto  under  his  grizzly  beard,  de- 
veloping now  into  music — a  hard  and  stiff  old 
Memnon  smitten  by  the  sun ;  culminating  in 
the  suggesting,  subscribing  for,  obtaining,  and 
actually  using  an  instrument.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  pass  lightly  over  that.  And  the  Ladies' 
Fairs  also,  from  time  to  time,  for  this  object  and 
for  that ;  the  Sabbath-school  celebrations  of 
j  ribboned  and  rosy  and  hungry  children ;  the 
grand  efforts  at  tract  distribution  for  the  en- 
tire town ;  the  purchase  and  arrival  of  a  grand 
[  Congregational  Library ;  the  building  of  a  study 
for  the  pastor;  the  presenting  him  of  sudden 
sets  of  linen  and  altogether  unexpected  writing- 
desks. 

Oh,  blessed  period  of  life,  when  a  man  is  fairly 
at  his  life's  work,  with  Youth  and  Health  and 
Hope  his  close  companions !  Blessed  period 
when,  like  a  swimmer  fresh  to  his  task,  there  is 
a  joy  in  every  fibre  at  the  very  encountering  and 
mounting  and  leaving  behind  the  opposing  bil- 
lows as  they  come !  Time  of  exultation,  when 
every  defect  discovered  in  one's  self  is  a  joy,  in 
the  hope  of  henceforth  destroying  the  same ; 
when  every  enemy  unintentionally  made  learns 
the  novice  how  henceforth  to  act  so  as  to  secure 
instead  a  thousand  friends ;  when  every  oppos- 
ing circumstance  is  but  a  something,  the  path 
over  which  leads  one  that  much  higher  above 
what  he  was  before  !  But,  O  youth  thrice  bless- 
ed, when  the  Telemachus  accompanied  by  M-en- 
tor  is  realized,  more  than  realized,  in  him  who, 
engaged  in  the  service  of  an  incarnate  God  in- 
stead, walks  ever  with  that  God  during  all  the 
day,  kneeling  morn  and  night  in  communion, 
fellowship,  friendship  closer  and  sweeter  than 
the  world  knows  beside  with  that  friend  and 


54 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


brother!  There  is  too  entire  an  identity  be- 
tween the  life  of  hira  who  is  doing  the  will  of 
God  on  earth  and  him  wiio  is  doing  the  will  of 
God  in  heaven,  for  the  iKipjuness  and  energy 
of  the  one  in  heaven  not  to  be  very  much  the 
energy  and  happiness  of  the  other  on  earth. 

In  nothing  was  it  more  evident  how  fully  en- 
gaged the  young  pastor  was  with  his  work,  and 
how  entirely  it  filled  and  satisfied  his  heart  and 
his  hands,  than  his  entire  forgetfulness  as  to  the 
making  of  money  ;  that  is,  as  to  the  accumulat- 
ing any  property  at  all.  It  never  occurred  to 
him  to  place  at  interest  what  remained  over  of 
his  salary  at  the  end  of  the  year ;  it  went  every 
cent  to  gifts  for  the  children  of  the  Sabbath- 
school,  and  donations  to  benevolent  objects. 
When  he  first  arrived  in  Somervillc  had  he  only 
bought  a  few  town  lots  at  the  nominal  jjrice  then 
asked,  in  a  few  years  he  would  have  had  even 
wealth.  It  never  occurred  to  him  for  an  in- 
stant ;  even  the  purchasing  of  a  lot  for  his  own 
home  in  the  future  was  done  only  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  friends.  Peoi)le  who  owned  a  few  head 
of  cattle  when  he  arrived  in  Somerville  had 
whole  herds  thereof  by  natural  increase  in  a  few 
years.  Why  could  he  not  have  done  the  same  ? 
There  was  ^Ir.  Ncely,  the  schoolmaster — with  his 
first  earnings  from  his  school  he  had  bought  a 
likely  negro  woman,  and  now  he  had  quite  a 
family  of  young  negroes,  upon  even  tlie  youn- 
gest of  which  he  could  have  realized  five  hundred 
dollars  any  day.  "  And  why,"  JMrs.  Warner  fre- 
(juently  asked,  "could  not  Mr.  Arthur  have  done 
the  same  thing?"  Yes,  it  is  with  pain  that  we 
frankly  state  this  new  weakness  in  one  whom  we 
would  fain  have  the  reader  love.  Devotion  to 
his  calling?  Certainly.  But  such  thoughtless- 
ness, such  utter  lack  of  reference  to  his  future 
wife  and  children !  We  would  paint  him  in 
brighter  colors  if  we  dared  ;  better  tell  the  truth 
of  him  though.  Truth  is,  "The  children  of  this 
world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the 
children  of  light!" 

One  thing  is  certain — he  grew  steadily  in  the 
confidence  and  esteem  even  of  tiiose  who  ac-. 
knowledged  his  deplorable  lack  of  worldly  wis- 
dom. Yet  "  men  will  praise  thee  when  thou 
doest  well  to  thyself;"  perhaps  they  would  have 
thought  that  much  the  more  of  him  if  he  had 
been  accumulating  property  all  the  while;  but 
let  us  recount  nothing  but  the  truth  about  him 
though  the  heavens  fall. 

Yes,  so  far  in  his  ministry  the  young  pastor 
toiled  with  enthusiasm  and  joy.  From  the  first 
he  can  be  said  to  have  had  but  one  definite 
trouble ;  and  that  trouble  had  quick,  sharp, 
black  eyes,  which  saw  every  thing  going  on  in 
Somerville  and  a  great  deal  more ;   and  that 


trouble  had  a  tongue,  and  such  a  tongue  !  Per- 
petually was  Mrs.  Warner  seeing  something  dread- 
ful hero,  and  strongly  suspecting  something  worse 
there,  and  jiainfully  but  positively  assured  of  dis- 
aster in  the  future,  and  pouring  all  herself  abroad 
ujjon  such  matters  every  where.  Any  chemist 
wiio  had  enumerated  the  ingredients  compos- 
ing the  atmospliere  of  Somerville,  and,  in  men- 
tioning oxygen,  nitrogen,  vapor,  and  carbonic 
acid,  had  failed  to  mention  Mrs.  Warner  as  a 
chief  constituent  element  of  that  atmosphere, 
would  have  been  woefully  mistaken.  That  one 
lady  managed  to  keep  the  place  surcharged  with 
anecdotes,  rumors,  susjiicions,  surmises,  projih- 
ecies — all  personal,  and  all  of  a  painful  nature 
to  a  degree  surpassing  human  power  of  produc- 
tion. To  do  Mrs.  Warner  justice,  her  own  serv- 
ants, children,  husband — household,  in  fact,  was 
the  theme  ujjon  which  she  dilated  most  freely 
and  fnlly.  Neat  and  energetic  housekeeper  as 
j\Irs.  Warner  was,  it  was  certainly  not  at  home 
only  that  she  washed  her  "dirty  linen."  Some 
of  it  showing,  in  her  hands,  so  very  dirty,  too. 

As  the  years  rolled  by  the  canal  gates  had 
been  too  often  opened  to  close  now  at  all.  But 
her  children  did  not  particularly  mind,  her  serv- 
ants had  grown  used  to  it,  her  husband  was  too 
old  a  sailor  upon  the  tossing  deck  and  amidst 
the  whistling  gales  of  his  home  not  to  have 
come  to  regard  it  all  as  the  ordinance  of  nature. 
Every  day  he  grew  fatter  and  balder  and  more 
stooped  about  the  head,  more  slovenly  about  the 
person,  quite  a  weather-beaten  mariner,  but 
wonderfully  forbearing  and  mild.  But  then  her 
table,  and  her  exquisitely  neat  and  clock-work 
household !  If  one  were  but  stone-blind  and 
perfectly  deaf,  or  a  philosopher — Socrates  say — 
he  could  live  even  under  Mi-s.  Warner's  roof. 

And  all  these  months  Mr.  Arthur  continues 
with  Mrs.  Bowles.  The  idea  never  occurred  to 
her  in  that  form ;  but  her  guest  was  to  her  all 
that  Rutledge  Bowles  would  have  been  had  he 
instead  tenanted  the  little  ofiSce  in  the  front 
yard  all  this  time — rather  more  perhaps. 

"  And  Mr.  Arthur  is  such  a  vast  assistance  to 
Alice  in  her  studies,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles  to  Mrs. 
Sorel  one  day;  "and  they  have  read  a  great 
deal  of  history  together,  too.  Mr.  Arthur  takes 
a  pleasure  natural  to  a  scholar  in  such  things. 
Really  I  believe  Alice  is  improved  beyond  her 
years — more  thoughtful,  too.  I  hope  to  return 
to  Charleston  as  soon  as  Rutledge  Bowles  is  set- 
tled in  the  practice  of  the  law  there.  It  is  too 
soon  to  speak  of  such  things  yet,  I  am  aware ; 
but  if  Alice  is  finally  married  into  one  of  the  old 
families  there  I  will  be  satisfied." 

And  placid  Mrs.  Sorel  only  smiled  in  her  quiet 
way,  and  said  nothing  upon  the  subject  whatever. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


65 


THE  NldlTI.T   CONFLAGRATION. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  current  of  events  presses  more  and  more 
powerfully  upon  us  as  we  near  the  roaring,  foam- 
ing vortex  of  Secession.  Let  us  resist  it  for  a 
moment  longer  ;  for  even  in  the  waters,  compar- 
atively calm  and  smooth,  just  outside  that  vor- 
tex, there  is  a  quickening  and  a  current  toward 
that  fatal  circle,  and  toward  that  circle's  fatal 
centre,  and  all  its  disastrous  result  among  the 
black  rocks  and  the  surging  waters. 

Months,  and  even  years,  had  passed  over  the 
young  minister  at  his  work  there  in  Somervillc. 
His  charge  has  increased  wonderfully  from  the 
little  seed  of  its  organization.  It  is  no  longer  an 
experiment,  but  a  regularly  established  church 
and  congregation,  having  a  strong  family  like- 
ness to  churches  of  the  same  denomination  the 
land  over.  The  old  Major  gazing  down  upon 
his  family  had  heard  Know  Nothingism  wonder- 
ed over  as  the  last  new  thing  under  the  sun.  He 
had  heard  his  daughter  Alice  say  one  night  to 
the  young  minister,  lifting  her  eyes  from  her 
slate  after  having  satisfactorily  reached  the 
Q.E.D.  of  her  proposition — she  was  getting  fast 
toward  the  end  of  her  schooling  now — "Mr. 
Arthur,  what  is  Know  Nothingism  ?" 

"I  know  nothing  about  it.  Miss  Alice." 

"Oh  pshaw!"  Miss  Alice  has  said;  and  is 
engaged  in  making  a  rapid  but  not  flattering 
sketch  upon  her  slate  of  her  music-master  as  he 
appears  at  the  piano. 

"What    an    ex]>ression,    Alice!"  says    Mrs. 


Bowles,  looking  up  from  her  sewing.  Her  eyes 
are  not  as  strong  as  tlicy  might  be,  as  they  were 
years  ago  when  the  Major  overhead  first  sur- 
rendered to  them ;  but  Rutledge  Bowles  must 
have  his  shirts.  Rutledge  Bowles  has  left  college 
now — not  graduated  exactly,  but  left  it.  More 
than  once  had  he  consented  to  waive  the  past 
and  retimi  to  Columbia  from  Charleston,  in  the 
earnest  Iiojjc  that  the  College  Faculty  hud  come 
to  their  senses.  The  last  time,  however,  it  was 
too  much,  really  too  much — their  course — for 
him  to  endure.  In  comjjany  with  the  other  stu- 
dents he  again  withdrew  as  to  Mons  Surer;  but 
this  time  he  could  descend  no  more — could  not 
even  entertain  such  a  proposition. 

In  fact  there  is,  just  now,  no  college  at  Co- 
lumbia to  descend  to.  For  the  time,  Student- 
Secession  has  killed  it.  Rutledge  Bowles  is  now 
in  the  law  office,  at  Ciiarleston,  of  one  of  his  fa- 
ther's old  friends.  That  is,  he  is  occasionally  in 
it.  "NVhat  with  cigars  and  wine-]mrties,  games 
at  billiards  and  the  like,  he  really  has  but  little 
leisure  for  the  office.  Besides,  politics  must  be 
attended  to.  Being  in  Charleston,  the  Mercury 
and  the  Courier  must  be  read,  at  least  glanced 
over,  after  breakfast,  and  an  hour  or  two  spent 
in  discussing  with  the  nearest  friend  the  last 
points  of  the  case.  As  Rutledge  Bowles  retires 
rather  late  of  a  night,  and  rises  rather  late  of  a 
morning,  when  he  has  done  with  the  papers  and 
the  conversation  thereupon  after  breakfast,  it  is 
altogether  useless  to  go  to  the  office  that  day  at 
least. 

Not  that  he  has  no  purpose  in  life.  Rutledge 
Bowles  has  jdenty  of  talent,  undisciplined  as  it 
is,  and  superabundance  of  lire  to  warm  it.  He 
has  a  purpose  before  him  in  life — a  purpose  to 
which  he  would  gladly  give  all  his  energies.  If 
he  could  only  get  to  stand  upon  the  floor  in  Con- 
gress, make  one  good,  full  speech  containing  all 
he  would  like  to  say  against  the  North  ;  see  the 
Abolition  Members  writhe  in  their  seats  beneath 
it,  and  then  have  it  printed  and  eircidated  over 
South  Carolina  and  the  rest  of  tlic  South,  a  copy 
carefully  mailed  to  his  mother,  he  could  be  con- 
tent to  die,  naturally  or  in  any  duel  which  might 
turn  up.  Rutledge  Bowles  has  his  ideal  of  hu- 
man glory,  too.  Let  him  have  justice  done  him. 
Congressman  Brooks  is  the  idol  of  the  hour  in 
his  latitude — but  not  with  him. 

"No,  gentlemen,"  he  has  said  in  his  knot  of 
friends,  "you  must  permit  me  to  differ  from 
you.  I  perfectly  agree  in  all  you  say  or  can  say 
about  that  most  contemptible  fellow,  Sumner. 
But  Brooks  was  wrong  to  cane  him.  With  all 
respect  for  Brooks,  the  club  is  not  the  weai)on 
of  a  gentleman.  Under  no  circumstances  is  cuil- 
geling  a  gentlemanly  deed.  My  idea  is  simjdy 
this:  Calhoun  would  not  have  done  it!  If  the 
fellow  was  a  gentleman,  call  him  out.  If  he  is 
not  a  gentleman,  be  unaware  of  bis  existence." 
But  his  friends  can  not  agree  with  him  for  an 


56 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


instant.  He  does  not  know  it ;  but  it  is  the  old 
Major,  his  grand  old  father,  sjjcaks  out  in  him. 
And  it  is  amazing  in  Kutledge  Bowles.  Not 
only  the  young  approve  the  cudgeling;  even 
white-headed  men,  members  of  the  church,  of- 
ficers of  churches,  even  venerable  pastors,  tliink, 
"  under  all  the  circumstances,"  that  Brooks  was 
right.  They  regret  he  was  compelled  to  do  such 
a  things  in  just  such  a  place ;  but,  as  it  was,  he 
was  right,  Christ  and  all  his  apostles  to  the  con- 
trary notwithstanding.  No ;  Calhoun  is  Rut- 
ledge  Bowles's  ideal  of  earthly  glory.  Not  ex- 
actly Calhoun  the  hard  student  in  his  youth ; 
nor  Calhoun  the  cold  dialectician  ;  nor  Calhoun 
the  spotless  husband  and  father;  nor  Callioun 
the  irreproachable  gentleman  only — but  Calhoun 
the  scourge  of  the  North.  More  than  once  has 
Rutledge  Bowles,  strolling  along  the  street  there 
in  Charleston,  thrown  down  his  freshly-lighted 
cigar  at  the  door  of  the  public  edifice  wherein  it 
is  enshrined,  and  gone  in  yet  once  more  to  have 
another  good  look  at  Powcrs's  statue  of  the  old 
Roman.  And  Calhoun  is  an  awful  presence, 
standing  there  in  a  marble  coldness  which  har- 
monizes with  his  character.  Only  lava  cold  from 
Vesuvius  could  have  been  better  and  more  sig- 
nificant material.  There  he  stands,  his  out- 
stretched arm  shattered  to  the  shoulder  by  rag- 
ing waters  and  foundering  ship.  Did  Rutledge 
Bowles  read  no  omen  in  this  of  another  tempest, 
another  foundering  bark,  shattering  in  the  future 
more  than  that? 

"I  am  astonished  at  you,  Alice,"  said  Mrs. 
Bowles.  "Mr.  Arthur  tells  you  he  knows  no- 
thing of  the  matter  about  which  you  ask  him, 
and  you  say,  Oh  pshaw !" 

"Yes;  but,  ma,  the  girls  all  say  that  is  just 
'what  all  their  brothers  and  fathers  say  when 
they  ask  them — and  they  members  of  the  Order 
all  the  time.  That  is  the  way  it  came  by  its 
queer  name,"  said  Alice,  giving  unnecessary 
length  on  her  slate  to  the  fingers  of  her  music- 
master's  widely-extended  arms. 

"You  are  right.  Miss  Alice,"  the  minister  re- 
plies. "But  I  am  in  earnest.  And,  what  is 
more,  I  never  intend  to  know  any  thing  moi'e 
of  this  new  party  than  I  do  now." 

He  was  in  earnest  when  he  said  it ;  yet  we  saw 
how  he  afterward  fell  from  this  his  high  estate. 
And  it  is  almost  a  positive  satisfaction  to  know 
that  he  did  en-  herein.  The  weaknesses  of  these 
ministers  are  so  often  internal  and  undiscovered 
by  the  world  around,  that  this  error  of  the  Rev. 
Edward  Arthur  will  help  the  reader  to  believe 
the  assurances  of  the  writer  of  these  pages  that 
he  was  by  no  means  an  angel.  On  the  contrary, 
a  man,  and  a  very  imperfect  one  at  that. 

Yes ;  Know  Nothingism  had  come  and  had 
gone,  accomplishing  its  specific  something  for 
God  in  the  land,  certainly  in  this  individual.  It 
had  been  entombed  beneath  editorials,  pamphlets, 


speeches,  as  beneath  autumnal  leaves  which  had 
once  been  so  fresh  and  (lourishing.  Peojile  had 
subsided  somewhat  into  merely  youths  and  maid- 
ens, husbands  and  mothers,  when  suddenly  they 
are  brought  back  to  their  condition  of  citizens 
with  a  shock.  Lo  another  excitement  b<?gins, 
literally,  to  redden  the  horizon  ! 

It  had  amazed  Mr.  Neely  very  much — Mr. 
Neely  was  from  New  Hampshire,  and  taught 
school  in  Somerville — when  he  first  arrived  in 
the  South,  not  to  find  the  negroes  working  in 
irons  all  day  and  carefully  locked  up  all  night. 
Why  they  were  not  in  a  condition  of  incessant 
and  universal  insurrection  had  been  a  puzzle  to 
him,  and  multitudes  with  him  there,  before  he 
left  the  North.  Mr.  Neely  had  often  read  items 
in  the  papers  before  he  left  the  North,  and  he 
met  with  them  in  the  papers  of  the  South  after 
settling  in  Somerville,  to  the  effect  that  the 
blacks  in  such  a  county  and  in  such  a  State  had 
been  discovered  to  be  in  a  conspiracy  to  rise  on 
a  certain  fixed  day,  murder  all  the  whites,  plun- 
der and  burn  all  the  houses,  and — who  knows 
or  had  any  idea  of  what  they  would  do  next  ? 
It  was  a  thing  in  which  Mr.  Neely  took  the  live- 
liest, deepest,  most  nervous  interest;  yet,  for  the 
life  of  him,  he  could  never  get  the  exact  facts 
of  any  such  case.  Every  few  months  he  would 
read  of  some  such  consjiiracy  being  discovered, 
now  in  this  county,  now  in  that,  in  the  State  in 
which  he  had  settled.  Oftener  still  he  would 
hear  accounts,  to  the  same  efl'ect,  of  which  the 
papers  made  no  mention.  It  was  always  tlic 
same  story — a  conspiracy  existing,  embracing  it 
was  not  known  how  many  negroes ;  a  discovery 
thereof  just  before  the  day  it  was  to  break  out ; 
certain  white  men  mysteriously  involved  therein ; 
a  dozen  or  two  of  the  negroes  hung  in  company 
with  one  or  more  white  men. 

Always  exaggerated,  the  facts  were  in  some 
cases  substantially  so.  Yet  Mr.  Neely  could  not 
understand  the  matter  for  his  soul.  Who  were 
the  white  men  ?  What  was  their  motive  in  ex- 
citing the  negroes  to  insurrection  ?  Was  it  hope 
of  plunder?  Was  it  revenge  of  private  grudge 
against  certain  owners  ?  Or  was  it  nothing  oth- 
er than  desperate  fanaticism?  There  must  be 
some  powerful  motive  to  induce  any  one  to  un- 
dertake such  terrible  risk.  What  was  the  mo- 
tive ?  The  detected  conspiracy  was  always  fol- 
lowed by  confession  on  the  part  of  some  one  or 
more  of  the  parties  involved.  What  was  the 
confession?  Among  so  many  discovered  con- 
spiracies, taking  place  during  so  many  years, 
why  was  no  more  understanding  arrived  at  of 
the  germ,  and  process,  and  end  aimed  at?  The 
fact  and  philosophy  of  the  thing — that  is  what 
the  inquiring  mind  of  Mr.  Neely  wished  to  get 
at.  But  Mr.  Neely  never  found  any  body  who 
could  cast  the  least  light  upon  the  subject. 

Nor  would  he  if  he  had  sought  for  information 
throughout  the  entire  South.    When  such  things 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


57 


take  place  people  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
thereof  are  terribly  excited  ;  rigid  investigiitioiis 
arc  made ;  negroes  and  others  arc  hung ;  but  at 
last  the  whole  matter  remains  as  much  as  ever  a 
puzzle  and  a  mystery.  A  regular  organization 
of  white  men  to  excite  the  negroes  to  insurrec- 
tion, with  agents  abroad  ?  or  each  case  a  private, 
isolated,  si)ontancous  matter?  The  people  of 
the  South  know  no  more  on  the  subject  than  did 
Mr.  Neely,  or  than  the  North  from  which  Mr. 
Ncely  came. 

So  that  when,  one  mid-summer  morning,  Mrs. 
Bowles  asked  her  guest,  at  breakfast,  "Mr.  Ar- 
thur, what  do  you  think  of  these  dreadful  burn- 
ings we  hear  so  much  about?"  Mr.  Arthur  could 
only  reply,  "The  accounts  are  greatly  exagger- 
ated, madam,  I  feel  confident;  beyond  that  I 
really  do  not  know  what  to  say  or  to  think." 

"We  were  speaking  of  the  subject  last  night 
at  Mr.  Ellis's  house,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles.  "  Mrs. 
Ellis  told  me  about  it  before  Mr.  Ellis  came  in 
from  his  store,  and  he  confirmed  all  she  had 
said.  Stables,  mills,  private  houses  have  been 
burned  in  great  numbers  ;  all  in  difi'eicnt  neigh- 
borhoods, but  all  about  the  same  time.  In  ev- 
ery neighborhood,  too,  negroes  have  been  arrest- 
ed and  hung.  Mr.  Ferguson  happened  to  be  in 
to  supper.  I  believe  it  is  the  only  place  in  Som- 
erville  at  which  he  visits ;  and  he  says  it  is  amaz- 
ing sensible  people  should  be  such  fools.  He 
does  not  deny  the  many  simultaneous  fires,  but 
accounts  for  them  by  the  great  heat  of  the  sum- 
mer, which  has  turned  every  thing  to  tinder. 
Under  such  circumstances,  when  the  least  spark 
will  produce  a  conflagration,  his  only  wonder  is 
that  there  aie  not  more  fires.  We  all  know  Mr. 
Ferguson,  however,"  Mrs.  Bowlea  adds,  with  a 
smile. 

"But  how  does  he  account  for  the  torpedoes 
and  matches  which  are  said  to  have  been  discov- 
ered among  the  negroes — the  arms  and  powder 
also  ?" 

"Oh!  you  know  Mr.  Ferguson.  All  stuff 
and  nonsense,  he  says." 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,  here  is  General  Lam- 
nm's  view  of  the  matter,"  said  Mr'  Arthur,  un- 
folding a  damp  paper — the  Somerville  Star. 

"  We  all  know  Lamum  is  a  bad,  unprincipled 
man ;  but,  Yankee  as  he  is,  nobody  doubts  him 
to  be  a  genuine  Southern  man,  as  fi\r,  at  least, 
as  he  can  be,  poor  man !"  said  Mrs.  Bowles. 
"Please  read  what  he  says." 

"  'We  have  long  looked  for  it,'  read  Mr.  Ar- 
thur— '  have  even  wondered  why  the  work  was 
not  begun  before.  It  is  fairly  inaugurated,  how- 
ever, at  last!  True  to  their  infernal  principles, 
faithful,  as  madmen  ever  are,  to  their  diabolical 
threats,  the  Abolitionists  have  entered  upon  their 
work  of  fire,  and  blood,  and  plunder  at  last ! 
From  innumerable  parts  of  the  South  and  of 
our  own  State  we  hear  of  awful  conflagrations 
and  qfj  detected  conspiracies  among  the  blacks. 


That  the  whole  North  is  entered  upon  a  crusade 
against  slavery  we  have  no  more  doubt  tiuin  we 
have  of  the  shining  of  the  sun.  Advices  from 
Texas  are  to  the  ctiect  that  over  the  whole  of 
that  State  conspiracy  reigns  triumphant.  From 
sources  which  place  the  information  beyond  all 
doubt  we  know  that  there  exists  a  powerful  or- 
ganization, secret,  and  amply  supplied  with  men 
and  money,  sworn  to  the  work.  This  secret  Or- 
der has  its  peddlers,  map  and  book  agents,  fur- 
niture-varnishers,  school-teachers,  preachers,  and 
the  like,  traveling  over  the  entire  South.  To- 
day are  these  infernal  emissaries  among  us,  in 
intimate  intercourse  with  the  negroes,  poisoning 
their  minds,  supplying  them  with  torpedoes, 
strychnine,  and  arms,  ])rei)aring  them  for  what 
is  to  come.  The  signal  has  already  been  given. 
Any  night  we  may  wake  to  fire  and  carnage  un- 
precedented in  the  annals  of  the  world.  Our 
homes,  our  wives — '"  But  here  ]Mr.  Arthur 
stopped.  There  was  much  more  to  the  same 
eiiect. 

"You  need  not  fear  my  nerves,  Mr.  Arthur," 
said  Mrs.  Bowles,  with  a  smile.  "I  have  heard 
and  read  things  to  the  same  effect  in  South  Car- 
olina ever  since  I  can  remember.  I  am  used 
to  it." 

"It  reminds  me,"  said  Alice,  after  a  pause, 
"of  what  you  read  to  us,  Mr.  Arthur,  in  Car- 
lyle's  '  French  Revolution'  the  other  night.  Yon 
remember  the  negro  alluded  to  therein  standing 
before  the  magistrate  in  St.  Domingo,  with  black 
seed  in  his  palm  covered  with  a  few  white  seed. 
He  shook  his  hand :  the  white  seed  had  disap- 
peared, only  the  black  seed  seemed  left !  And 
after  that  came  the  awful  convulsions  there!" 

Mr.  Arthur  ate  his  breakfast  in  silence,  the 
negro  servant,  a  smart  mulatto  boy,  waiting  as- 
siduously on  the  table,  and  hearing  all  that  was 
said.  That  was  never  thought  of  by  any  one 
there.  Talk  about  excluding  Abolition  emissa- 
ries from  the  South !  No  public  speaker  for 
years  past  has  ever  mounted  the  stump  in  any 
part  of  the  South  but  he  has  had  negroes  by 
scores  among  his  audience:  negroes  with  white 
children  in  their  arms ;  negroes  attending  to  the 
horses ;  negroes  bringing  water ;  negroes  loiter- 
ing around  from  curiosity.  And  when,  for  years 
past,  has  any  stump  speaker  failed  in  his  speech 
to  dwell  upon  Abolition,  conveying  to  his  negro 
hearers,  and  through  them  to  every  black  in  the 
South,  all  the  information  any  human  being 
could  convey  to  them  on  the  subject?  It  had 
struck  the  young  minister  as  a  little  odd,  hear- 
ing, on  a  grand  barbecue  occasion.  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts  deprecating  from  the  stumj)  this  ver\' 
thing,  when,  all  the  time  he  was  speaking,  half 
a  dozen  of  the  brightest  mulattoes  in  the  county 
stood  in  eager  attention  within  almost  arm's- 
length  of  him.  Save  beings  to  do  the  work, 
needing  in  consequence  just  so  much  food,  cloth- 
ing, and  the  like,  the  house-flies  were  little  less 


58 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


heeded,  save  in  parentheses  of  excitement  about 
insurrection. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Alice,  motioning  Charles, 
the  waiter,  to  hand  her  the  sirup — she  was  school- 
girl enough  yet  for  that — "  I  wish  you  had  never 
read  me  that  horrid  book,  Mr.  Arthur.  All  that 
description  of  the  peasantry  of  France  in  the  first 
part,  and  how  they  rose  afterward  I" 

"It  was  no  selection  of  mine,  Miss  Alice — " 
began  the  guest. 

"Oh!  I  know  that,  Mr.  Arthur;  but  I  do 
wish,  with  all  my  heart,  all  the  negroes  were 
in  the  Red  Sea!"  And  none  but  a  school-girl 
could  have  made  such  an  irrelevant  remark,  with 
such  singular  emphasis  too. 

"One  thing  I  hardly  need  say,"  obsers'ed  the 
minister,  as  they  lingered  still  around  the  table, 
"I  am  not  a  blood-thirsty  character,  I  believe, 
and  I  abhor  Lynch-law ;  but  if  there  be  agents 
among  us  inciting  our  servants  to  insurrection, 
they  are  guilty  of  the  most  terrible  of  crimes 
against  us,  and  against  the  negroes  themselves. 
They  can  not  be  watched  against  too  carefully, 
nor  dealt  with,  when  detected,  too  severely."        | 
"Yes ;  but  what  I  hate,"  broke  in  the  impuls- 
ive Alice,  "is,  that  we  should  be  in  a  condition 
requiring  us  to  be  afraid  of  any  body,  requiring 
us  to  be  keeping  up  a  watch  all  the  time.     I  am 
a  genuine  Southern  girl,"  continued  she,  erect 
as  an  Indian,  with  glowing  check  and  sparkling 
eye,  "  and  I  can't  bear  to  think  the  South  should 
have  to  be  always  in  a  panic  about  Yankees,  and 
emissaries,  and  conspiracies.    Tiiey  want  us  even  , 
to  be  looking  around  to  see  if  any  of  the  negroes  ! 
are  near  before  we  speak  ;  watching  lest  they  be 
peeping  through  keyholes  and  listening  behind 
doors;  whispering  and  talking  low,  and  using 
all  sorts  of  devices  to  hide  our  meaning.     It's  a 
cowardly  condition  to  be  in  !" 

"You  foolish  girl!"  said  her  mother,  smiling 
at  her  energy  of  manner.  "  Don't  parents  have 
tilings  they  never  speak  of  freely  until  their  chil- 
dren are  sent  out  of  the  room  ?  Do  we  say  all  : 
we  tliink  before  our  acquaintances  even,  and 
friends?     What  a  child  you  are!" 

But,  like  a  willful  child,  the  young  beauty  only 
arched  her  brows  and  shook  her  head. 

"I  only  know  pa  always  taught  me,  and  you 
have  always  taught  me,  and  all  I  have  read  has 
taught  me  to  admire  England ;  and  I'm  sure 
there's  nothing  of  the  sort — the  continual  trem- 
bling and  apprehending  I  mean — there ;  is  there, 
Mr.  Arthur  ?" 

"There  is  in  Austria  and  in  Italy,"  i-eplied 
that  gentleman.  "  I  have  read  about  the  Chart- 
ists of  England,  and  the  Irisli,  tlie  French,  too, 
over  the  Channel ;  but  to  what  degree  they  are 
feared  I  really  can  not  say.  But  I  must  go  to 
my  books." 

As  the  weeks  rolled  by  matters  became  more 
and  more  alarming.  Every  number  of  the  Som- 
erville  Stru-  was  taken  up  with  accounts  of  new 


burnings,  new  conspiracies,  additional  hangings. 
Several  tires  had  taken  jdace  in  the  vicinity  of 
Sonierville.  One  day  Somerville  was  thrown 
into  the  intenscst  excitement — a  cari>enter's  shop 
was  suddenly  discovered  to  be  in  tlames.  Not  a 
man  of  the  many  speedily  on  the  ground  but  had 
his  revolver  girt  beneath  his  coat.  It  was  dis- 
covered, however,  to  be  the  work  of  j>oor  Jack 
Sam])son's  children,  the  unfortunate  carpenter 
himself.  Like  other  unfortunates  in  this  world. 
Jack  had  altogether  too  many  children,  and  ev- 
ery one  of  all  he  had  was  perpetually  in  mischief 
and  in  trouble  of  some  sort  or  other — a  broken 
leg,  or  a  chop])ed  foot,  or  a  blued  eye,  or  a  bad 
burn,  or  a  "  Deary  me !  somethin'  goin'  wrong 
all  the  time  with  them  children ;  it  breaks  my 
back  to  nurse  'em,  and  breaks  my  heart  to  raise 
'em!"  was  poor,  slouchy,  sallow,  worked-to- 
death  Mrs.  Sampson's  continual  expression  of 
the  matter. 

"  Just  as  I  knew !"  said  Mr.  Ferguson.  "  And 
if  every  one  of  these  fires  could  but  be  thorough- 
ly investigated  it  would  be  found  to  be  the  same 
case  in  all.  Incendiaries?  StuflF  and  nonsense! 
Look  at  Sampson's  shop ;  those  piles  of  shavings 
baking  under  this  hot,  dry  summer  for  months  ; 
the  wonder  is  they  have  not  caught  fire  long  ago. 
All  those  fires  in  stables,  too ;  any  man  in  his 
senses  must  see  that  the  heaps  of  straw  and  litter 
about  such  places  are  tinder  during  such  a  sea- 
son as  this." 

Another  fire  in  Somerville  !  A  dwelling-house 
this  time,  and  by  a  negro  boy  of  some  ten  years 
old.  He  was  seen  to  fire  the  building  in  broad 
day!  In  fact,  he  never  denied  the  thing.  The 
town  authorities  had  prohibited  the  usual  serv- 
ices for  the  blacks  on  Sunday  afternoon  at  the 
churches ;  and  the  boy  avowed  that  he  did  the 
deed  partly  because  they  had  stopped  his  going 
to  church,  but  chiefly  on  account  of  the  over- 
weight of  the  white  babe  he  was  required  to  nurse. 
"  I  heern  tell  of  de  black  folks  burnin'  houses 
all  de  time,  dat's  what  made  me  fust  tink  of  it," 
was  his  candid  explanation  to  Mayor  and  Coun- 
cil. "Nobody  put  me  up  to  it,'"  he  persisted. 
"  Mass  George  he  say  sha'n't  go  to  church,  an' 
dat  baby  weigh  five  hundred  pound  !" 

Now  what  to  do  with  this  negro  boy?  that 
was  the  question.  For  four  weeks  Scip  lay  in 
the  jail ;  that  was  all.  Longer  than  that  his 
'  owner  could  not  do  without  him.  Hired  to 
somebody  else,  bearing  a  lighter  infant,  he  sinned 
no  more.  But  for  months  he  considered  himself 
rather  a  hero  than  otherwise.  More  than  once, 
as  he  drifted  about  Somerville  on  warm  Sunday 
afternoons  witli  his  charge,  in  answer  to  the 
question,  "Whose  baby  is  that  boy?"  "Mass 
Boiling,  what  lives  down  by  de  steam-mill,  an' 
I  is  de  boy  what  burned  down  de  house  by  de 
gully,"  was  his  prompt  reply. 

Another  fire !     This  time  it  originated  in  a 
grocery.     By  this  time  Mr.  Withers  had  fallen 


INSIDE.— A  ClIllOXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


59 


from  bcinp  only  a  drinker  of  whisky  to  the  lower 
de^jradjition  of  being  a  seller  thereof;  and  "  All 
I  know  about  it  is  tliis,  gontleinen.  Late  one 
iiigiu  1  fell  aslei'it  a^uiiist  tlie  counter,  by  George  ! 
There  were  a  good  many  newspapers,  I  know, 
Ivingonit.  Was  a  caudle  any  where  near?  Of 
course  there  was!  Do  you  think  I  was  sitting, 
by  George  !  in  the  dark  ?  I  don't  pretend  to  say 
how  my  place  caught  afiro,"  continued  Mr.  With- 
er ;  '•  but  one  thing  I  do  know,  Jem  IkuKl's 
gun-shop  is  next  door — was,  by  George ! — to  my 
place,  and  we  can  easily  guess  why  any  incend- 
iary would  want  that  burned  down.  The  other 
thing  I  know  is,  that  I  am  regularly  cleaned  out 
this  time — nary  red !  Not  able  to  get  even  my 
daily  liquor  except  on  tick  I" 

Another  fire!  A  cotton-gin  this  time,  a  few 
miles  out  of  Somerville.  The  excitement  was 
becoming  fearful.  Could  Lamum's  explanation 
be  the  true  one  ?  Was  the  country  really  filled 
with  incendiaries?  It  certainly  looked  like  it. 
Mr.  Arthur  found  no  satisfaction  in  Mr.  Fergu- 
son's theory.  Dry  and  hot  as  the  summer  was, 
there  were  altogether  too  many  fires.  To  do 
Mr.  Ferguson  justice,  with  every  new  conflagra- 
tion he  became  more  positive  upon  the  subject, 
fractious  even.  It  had  become  one  of  his  storm 
reefs,  which  his  ]>astor  had  learned  to  avoid. 

Another  increase  of  excitement !  Mr.  Isaac 
Smith,  the  painter,  had  been  out  of  his  shop  all 
day  painting  at  Colonel  Ret  Roberts's  new  office. 
He  did  not  return  to  it  until  bedtime — Mr. 
Smith  was  a  bachelor,  and  slept  in  his  shop. 
After  entering  it,  and  while  groping  about  in 
the  dark  for  his  candle  and  matches,  he  was  as- 
tonished to  observe  flashes  of  light  under  his  feet. 
On  lighting  his  candle  he  found  scattered  over 
the  floor  white  grains  little  larger  than  the  head 
of  a  pin,  which  burst  into  flame  on  being  trodden 
ujwn  or  rubbed  in  the  hand.  Not  that  Mr.  Ar- 
thur himself  got  to  see  any  of  these  torpedoes, 
but  the  story  was  told  him  by  a  dozen  lips. 

By  this  time  the  panic  was  fairly  under  way. 
Even  Mrs.  Warner  disappeared,  so  to  speak,  in 
the  universal  excitement.  Lying  Sam  Peters, 
lingering  about  street-corners,  found  himself 
singularly  tame  and  uninteresting  where  every 
body  was  talking.  Every  fresh  number  of  the 
Somerville  Star  was  filled  with  the  topic,  to  the 
exclusion  of  every  thing  else;  conspiracies  de-i 
tected,  men  hung,  the  whole  North  engaged  sys- 
tematically in  the  work  of  Southern  destruction. 
The  paper  was  frenzied  in  its  descri])tions,  asser- 
tions, invectives ;  and  it  was  but  one  of  hun- 
dreds of  sheets  employed,  few  with  equal,  none 
with  greater  ability,  to  the  same  end. 

''What  do  you  think  about  it?"  asked  Mr. 
Arthur  of  his  friend  Guy  Brooks.  It  is  imjjos- 
sible  for  any  human  being  to  live  for  any  length 
of  time  amidst  universal  and  intense  excitement 
and  not  be  affected  therel)y.  Physically,  mind, 
as  well  as  mentally,  the  human  magnetism,  elec- 


tricity, sympathy,  whatever  you  may  choose  to 
call  it,  which  binds  men  together,  insures  that. 

"I  have  my  own  deliberate  o])iniun  on  the 
sid)juct,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "But  we  won't 
bring  it  uj)  just  now.  Let  us  keep  cool,  and  wait 
a  little.  The  temperament  of  Somerville  just 
now  is  too  much  that  of  Sam  Peters  ;  the  whole 
place  talks  too  much  like  Mrs.  Warner  to  be- 
lieve all  we  hear.  No  man  likes  Dr.  Warner 
more  than  I  do,"  said  the  lawyer,  apologetical- 
ly ;  "but  Mrs.  Warner  is  really,  really — ah,  well, 
we  all  know  Mrs.  Warner!" 

"But,  Mr.  Brooks,"  persisted  Mr.  Arthur, 
"I  would  like  to  know  what  you  do  think  upon 
the  subject.  It  certainly  is  a  mysterious  matter, 
one  affect  ing  us  very — " 

"It  certainly  is,"  interrupted  his  friend,  grave- 
ly. "  But  we  won't  venture  an  opinion  just  now. 
My  case  is  not  quite  made  uj),  as  we  knaves  at 
the  bar  say.  Wait.  I  certainly  have  my  fear- 
ful opinion  on  the  subject.  But  it  is  really  too 
bad  to  utter.  I  may  be  mistaken.  God  grant 
I  am !  If  I'm  wrong  I'm  glad  of  it.  If  I'm 
right  time  will  show."  And  that  was  all  the 
generally  frank  lawyer  could  be  induced  to  say. 

It  was  the  next  Sunday  night  after  this  con- 
versation that  Mrs.  Bowles  was  aroused  by  a  tap- 
ping on  her  chamber  window. 

"Don't  be  alarmed.  Madam;  it  is  me — Mr. 
Arthur,"  said  that  gentleman,  in  answer  to  her 
hurried  exclamation.  "Please  get  up  and  dress 
yourself — Miss  Alice,  too — and  don't  be  alarm- 
ed ;  I  trust  there  is  no  occasion  to  be.  I  will  be 
out  upon  the  front  porch." 

There  Mrs.  Bowles  and  Alice  found  him  when 
they  had  hurried  on  their  dresses.  But  no  need 
to  ask  him  why  they  had  been  aroused.  Even 
before  they  left  their  bedroom  the  ruddy  glare 
upon  the  walls  told  them  of  another  fire.  As 
they  stood  upon  the  front  porch  the  whole  con- 
flagration was  distinctly  visible,  turning  night 
into  day,  and  throwing  the  shadows  of  fence  and 
trees  darkly  upon  the  ground.  Full  in  view 
from  the  eminence  on  which  it  stood,  the  Som- 
erville Factory  was  one  vast  blaze  from  the 
ground,  and  with  flames  which  towered  high 
above  the  lofty  roof.  A  six-story  edifice,  re- 
cently comiileted,  thoroughly  furnished,  and 
owned  by  a  Northern  Company,  the  establish- 
ment, a  good  deal  sneered  at  as  "that  Yankee 
concern,"  was  none  the  less  the  boast  and  pride 
of  the  i)lace. 

For  a  time  not  a  word  was  spoken  as  they 
stood  gazing  iq)on  the  sublime  spectacle,  listen- 
ing to  the  hiss  and  roar  of  the  steam  from  the 
heated  boilers.  It  was  remembered  by  all  of 
them  afterward  that  no  shouting  was  heard,  no 
one  was  seen  hurrying  past  their  house  to  the 
scene.  In  fact,  though  all  in  Somerville  knew 
of  the  fire,  few  besides  those  immediately  con- 
nected with  the  mill  were  there. 

"You  need  not  remain  with  us,"  said  Mrs. 


60 


INSIDE— A  nreOXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


THE  WARNING. 


Bowles,  at  last.  ' '  Perhaps  you  would  like  to 
assist  at  the  fire.  The  Major  always  hurried  to 
them  when  we  lived  in  Charleston  ;  he  liked  the 
excitement.  If  Rutledge  Bowles  was  here  he 
would  not  even  have  stopped  to  awaken  us." 


"I  have  no  desire  to  go,  I  thank  you,"  said 
Mr.  Arthur,  quietly;  and  Alice  noticed  now  that 
her  brother's  double-barrel  shot-gun,  rusty  from 
long  disuse,  was  leaned  in  a  corner  of  the  porch 
behind  him.     Beneath  his  hastily-buttoned  coat, 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


61 


too,  she  saw  the  butt  of  a  revolver  gleaming  in 

the  li^lu  of  the  coiillajjraiiou.     And  not  a  man 

or  boy  in  Somerville  that  night  but  remained  at 

home  armed  to  the  teeth.     It  is  strange  the  new 

and  singular  emotion  wliich  stirred  in  tiie  bosom 

of  tiiis  young  and  impulsive  girl  as  she  stood 

beside  Edward  Arthur  that  night,  aware,  she 

hardly  knew  how,  of  his  pale  face  and  set  lips 

and  fixed  resolve.     Not  that  he  said  any  thing. 

Mrs.   Bowles  engrossed   the  conversation   with 

reminiscences  of  South  Carolina,  and  the  nmg- 

nificent  scale  on  which  that  State  indulged  it- 
self in  its  conflagrations. 

Like  all  the  other  school  girls,  Alice  had  made 

abundant  fun  of  the  young  preacher  among  her 

companions,  the  truth  being  that  reverence  was 

a  trait  as  yet  nndeveloi>ed  in  her  character.  Her 
novel  emotions  are  easily  accounted  for.  You 
have  often  observed  that  when  you  are  suddenly 
awakened  at  midnight  from  a  sound  sleep  by 
music  there  is  a  freshness  of  feeling  about  you 
which  makes  the  music  far  sweeter  to  you  than 
the  very  same  strains  heard  on  any  other  occa- 
sion ;  and  it  was  out  of  a  very  sound  sleep  that 
Alice  had  just  awakened.  It  might  be  incident- 
ally remarked  tliat  these  young  people  had  been 
closely  associated  now  for  some  time,  not  only 
as  dwellers  under  the  same  roof.  It  is  amazing 
how  much  of  history  and  poetry  they  had  read 
together ;  how  much,  in  consequence  of  that, 
they  had  conversed,  thought,  and  felt  together — 
all  in  a  natural,  impercejitible  way — from  week 
to  week.  We  will  say  nothing  about  any  im- 
pression which  may  possibly  have  been  made 
upon  her  by  Mr.  Arthur's  purity  of  character 
and  refined  breeding,  and,  above  all,  his  en- 
thusiasm in  his  profession.  You  may  not  have 
thought  of  it  before,  but  an  honest  enthusiasm 
in  any  good  cause  is  one  of  the  most  beautifying 
things  in  this  world :  it  imparts  a  light  to  the 
lip  and  to  the  eye,  an  ujjlift  to  the  whole  per- 
son !  A  quiet,  unfathomable  enthusiasm  is  the 
light  and  bliss,  the  element  of  heaven. 

Not  a  more  unpopular  man  existed  than  was 
Mr.  Ferguson  the  next  day,  when,  true  to  his 
native  heather,  he  was  as  Scotch  in  his  belief  of 
the  accidental  nature  of  the  fire  as  ever.  There 
is  nothing  people  in  a  panic  hate  more  than  the 
man  who  coldly  refuses  to  go  with  them  tiiere- 
in ;  there  is  an  affected  su])eriority  to  every  body  [  the  face,  and  puffier  even  than  before  upon  the 
else,  a  self-assertion  in  such  a  course  which  is  subject,  Jim  stood  beside  him  oi)cn-mouthed, 
positively  insolent.  thoroughly    bewildered,    undeniably    innocent. 

"  Every  sensible  person  in  Somerville  has  ex-  It  was  singular  tlie  lack  of  definite,  decisive, 
pected  the  burning  of  that  factory  from  the  out-  undoubted  proof  upon  any  one  point  in  the  w  hole 
set  of  the  summer,"  said  Mr.  Ferguson.     "It    mysterious  matter. 

was  one  pile  of  tinder  from  top  to  bottom  :  cot- i  "I  am  more  and  more  convinced,"  Guy 
ton,  wool  lying  all  about,  and  a  raging  furnace  Brooks  had  said  more  than  once,  or  even  twice, 
in  the  centre  of  it.  Incendiary?  Stuff'  and  !  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Arthur.  "But  I  may  be  mis- 
nonsense!"  '  tiiken.  Wait.  Let  time  show."  But  of  what 
Not  an  adherent  did  Mr.  Ferguson  have  to  his    he  was  convinced  he  altogether  refused  to  state. 


had  entered  upon  a  new  collection.  It  had  oc- 
curred tu  him  during  tlie  last  few  days  to  collect 
and  preserve  all  tilings  in  his  reach  wiiich  had 
so  far  been  published  upon  the  subject  of  the 
burnings  and  conspiracies.  "A  rare  treat  it 
will  be  to  read  them  after  the  delusion  is  over  " 
he  said  to  himself;  and  he  entered  with  an  en- 
thusiasm  upon  the  subject  which  he  had  not  ex- 
pcrienced  even  in  making  uj)  his  treasure  of 
documents  relating  to  Infant  Bajttism. 

But  the  excitement  in  Somerville,  as  well  as 
througliout  the  whole  region,  who  can  describe! 
Nothing  else  was  thought  or  talked  of.  Arms 
of  all  sorts  were  cleaned,  loaded,  and  laid  in 
readiness.  Hardly  a  lady  in  Somerville  but  took 
lessons,  with  a  hundred  "Oh  my's!"  and  "Oh, 
I  am  so  afraid  !"  in  the  art  of  using  the  rifle  and 
the  revolver.  You  could  not  walk  jiast  a  door- 
yard  without  hearing  the  crack  !  crack !  of  pis- 
tol practice  on  the  part  of  the  inmates  of  the 
house. 

As  to  the  blacks,  the  Sunday  afternoon  serv- 
ice had  been  long  stopped.  Now  patrols  scoured 
the  streets  from  dark  till  broad  day,  firing 
promptly  upon  all  negroes  attemj)ting  to  run 
when  ordered  to  stop.  By  an  arrangement  of 
Mayor  and  Council  the  room  and  trunk  of  ev- 
ery negro  in  Somerville  was  searched  at  the  same 
hour  by  a  large  committee. 

"  And  nothing  found — not  a  thing !"  said  red- 
headed Mr.  Ferguson,  in  triumph. 

But  at  least  some  few  arms,  boxes  of  caps, 
even  powder,  was  found,  was  the  general  ru- 
mor. In  one  case,  at  least,  several  glass  bot- 
tles of  powder  were  certainly  found  in  a  negro's 
cabin.  Very  promptly  was  he  had  up  before  the 
Mayor,  but  as  he  seemed  more  amazed  at  the 
discovery  than  any  one  else,  he  was  as  promptly 
released.  "I  need  not  say,  gentlemen,"  re- 
marked pursy  Dr.  Ginnis,  the  owner  of  said 
boy,  during  his  examination,  "that  if  Jim  had 
any  hand  in  putting  that  powder  there,  you  may 
string  him  up,  and  welcome.  But  my  boy  Jim  ! 
I'd  take  my  oath  he  knows  no  more  about  it 
than  I  do.  Why,  gentlemen,  Jim  was  raised 
with  me!  Nursed  by  the  same  mammy ;  wres- 
tled together  a  thousand  times.  He  thinks  more 
of  me  than  if  I  was  his  own  brotlier."  And  while 
Dr.  Ginnis  waxed  short  of  breath,  and  redder  in 


theorv.     He  only  held  to  it  with  the  zeal  of 


"It  really  seems  to  me  as  if  this  excitement 


thousands  concentrated  in  himself.    Besides,  he    were  deranging  the  whole  of  us,"  said  Mr.  Ar- 


62 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


thur  one  evening  to  Mrs.  Bowles,  about  a  week 
after  the  destruction  of  the  factory,  as  they  sat 
out  upon  the  porch  in  front  of  the  house  enjoy- 
ing  the  moonliglit.  For  several  nights  now  be 
had  slept  upon  a  pallet  in  the  hall  of  the  house, 
dressed,  two  loaded  revolvers  within  easy  reach 
of  his  hand.  Mrs.  Bowles  said  nothing  to  him 
about  it,  but  she  saw  to  it  that  every  talile-knife 
in  the  place  was  under  lock  and  key  before  she 
lay  down  at  night,  counted  and  safe;  the  sil- 
ver-mounted carving-knife,  wherewitli  the  Major 
had  carved  at  his  hospitable  table  many  a  joint 
and  turkey,  rested  safe  under  her  pillow.  And 
her  guest  never  spoke  to  her  on  the  subject ;  yet, 
before  lying  down,  he  never  failed  to  take  the 
axe  from  the  woodpile  and  secrete  it,  restoring 
it  to  its  place  before  dawn  next  day.  And  he 
could  not  but  confess  to  an  almost  sheepish,  if 
not  mean,  feeling  as  he  did  it — a  sense  of  being 
ashamed  of  himself,  he  knew  not  why. 

And  now,  as  they  sit  upon  the  porch,  they 
hear  a  rapid  foot  along  the  street.  Every  ear 
had  grown  painfully  attentive,  every  eye  keenly 
alert  lately.  The  person  stops  at  the  front  gate, 
sliiclds  himself  in  the  moonlight  behind  one  of 
the  gate-posts,  and  begs  Mr.  Arthur  to  step  there 
a  moment.  Mr.  Arthur  does  so,  and  finds  an 
Alderman  of  Somerville  there.  The  Alderman 
is  fat  as  becomes  an  alderman,  althougli  turtle 
soup  smokes  not  within  half  a  thousand  miles  of 
Somerville,  and  is  panting  from  his  rapid  walk. 

"We  have  learned,  Mr.  Arthur,"  he  says,  as 
well  as  he  can — "leai-ned  but  an  hour  or  so  ago 
that  the  negroes  have  arranged  to  rise,  and  that 
to-niu'ht  is  the  time  appointed  for  it." 

"But,  Dr.  Ginnis,  is  there  any  foundation," 
begins  Mr.  Arthur. 

"  Can't  tell ;  fear  so ;  in  fact,  we  feel  almost 
certain  upon  the  subject.  But  I  have  no  time  to 
stop,"  said  Dr.  Ginnis,  in  the  same  low,  hurried 
tones.  "We  are  alarming  every  family  in  Som- 
erville, and  glad  we  knew  of  it  in  time  to  do  so." 
And  the  Alderman  has  hastened  on  to  apprise 
other  families  of  the  impending  insurrection, 
with  that  keen  gratification  in  having  news  of 
moment  to  impart  which  the  heart  icill  feel, 
though  the  news  be  the  death  of  one's  own  fa- 
ther. 

That  night  SomeiTille  sat  up. 

With  the  single  exception  of  Mr.  Ferguson. 
Leaving  every  window  of  his  house  open  and 
every  door  unlocked,  the  Scotchman  made  a  point 
of  going  to  bed  earlier  than  usual,  and  of  sleep- 
ing particularly  sound,  in  open  defiance  of  the 
panic  of  the  hour. 

If  Dr.  Warner  could  only  have  been  induced 
to  do  so,  he  could  have  deponed  under  oath  that, 
from  supper  time  till  breakfast  next  morning, 
Mrs.  Warner  never  ceased  speaking ;  the  im- 
pression produced  on  the  Doctor's  mind  thereby 
being  that,  in  some  inexplicable  but  undoubted 
way,  he,  Dr.  Warner,  was  to  blame  for  the  whole 


thing.  It  was  also  currently  reported  afterward 
that  Mr.  Neely,  the  schoolmaster  had  abandon- 
ed his  own  bachelor  home,  after  locking  in  his 
negro  woman  with  her  children,  and  nailing 
down  all  the  windows,  and  had  taken  refuge, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  making  ten  thousand 
inquiries  as  to  the  contemplated  rising,  when  it 
was  to  begin,  and  how  it  was  to  be  met,  in  the 
centre   of  a   crowd  of  watchers   at  the   hotel. 

I  "  Wiiite   in    the   gills,    by   George ;     actually 

'  frightened  out  of  his  wits  I"  was  Bob  Withers's 
statement  on  the  sulject  afterward.     However, 

I  it  was  morally  impossible  for  Bob  Withers  to 
speak  of  a  Northern  born  man  save  in  scorn  and 

!  contempt. 

I      As  the  young  minister  returned  to  the  house 

'  from  receiving  Dr.  Ginnis's  information,  per- 
plexed for  a  moment  what  course  to  pursue,'  lie 
finally  concluded  that  here,  as  in  every  thing 
else,  the  frankest  course  is  the  best. 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  ground  for  ap- 
prehension," he  said  to  his  companions;  "but 
then  I  can  not  be  positively  certain,  not  know- 
ing upon  what  the  Mayor  and  Corporation  rest 
their  belief." 

"But  have  they  adopted  no  plan  in  case  there 
is  a  rising  ?  Suppose  the  negroes  do  attempt 
it,  what  are  the  men  going  to  do  ?  Will  the 
negroes  move  in  one  body,  or  will  they  rise  scp- 

I  arately,  the  blacks  on  each  place  attacking  their 
own  people  ?  When  are  they  to  begin  ?  What 
are  you  going  to  do,  Mr.  Arthur?  Oh,  if  Kiit- 
ledge  Bowles  was  only  at  home !"  And  Mrs. 
Bowles  showered  question  upon  question  on  the 

j  head  of  her  guest.  Not  at  all  hysterical  either. 
The  least  frightened  persons  that  night  in  Som- 
erville were  the  females.  Bless  their  incxfilica- 
ble  natures,  they  shriek  at  a  spider,  but  look  a 
lion  undaunted  in  the  face ! 

It  was  little  their  defender  had  to  say;  but 
after  the  serA-ant  boy  Charles  and  his  wife  were 
gone  to  their  room  to  bed,  he  quietly  locked 
them  in  to  begin  with.  Next  he  laid  the  double- 
baiTcled  shot-gun  within  easy  reach  in  the  hall, 
and  plenty  of  ammunition  on  the  chair  beside  it. 
As  to  his  revolvers,  they  were  girded  on  as  a 
matter  of  course  and  of  custom.  But  while  he 
made  every  possible  preparation  for  any  event, 
he  treated  the  whole  as  a  needless  alarm — a  good 
joke,  in  fact,  to  be  laughed  over  hereafter. 

It  was  strange,  but  Mrs.  Bowles  seemed  rath- 
er to  enjoy  the  excitement  than  otherwise,  re- 
counting innumerable  like  alarms  passed  through 
in  South  Carolina,  especially  one,  in  which  the 
Major  patrolled  the  streets  by  night  for  two  weeks 
at  a  time.  So  excited  was  she  that  she  refused 
to  go  to  bed  at  all ;  and  it  was  after  midnight 
before  she  at  last  fell  asleep,  with  South  Caro- 
lina on  her  lips,  in  her  easy-chair,  seated  with 
them  on  the  front  porch.  Softly  adjusting  a  pil- 
low beneath   her  mother's   head  and  a  shawl 

1  around  her  shoulders,  Alice  again  seated  her- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


C3 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  PORCH. 


self  on  the  step  of  the  porch,  leaning  herself 
against  the  colnmn. 

Mrs.  Bowles's  house — Rutledjie  Bowles's  prop- 
erty she  preferred  calling  it — stood  hy  itself  on 
the  outskirts  of  Somer\ille,  no  other  house  within 


several  hundred  yards.  The  moon  had  now  gone 
down;  only  the  clear  brijjht  stars  ilhimincd  the 
serene  summer  night.  Seated  in  a  chair  above 
her  on  the  porch,  somewhat  in  the  shadow  of 
the  vines  which   overhung   it,   her  companion 


Gi 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


abandoned  himself  in  silence  to  her  loveliness 
as  she  sat,  her  face  and  eyes  turned  up  toward 
the  shining  stars.  Ah,  that  feeling  of  love,  first 
love,  love  unuttered  as  yet  even  to  the  object 
thereof,  why  should  I  describe  what  we  all  know 
so  well  ?  It  is  the  purest,  sweetest  emotion  felt 
beneath  those  stars.  He  felt  unwilling  to  break 
the  silence  by  a  word,  while  he  blessed  the  fat 
Alderman  for  his  news,  forgetting  for  the  time 
the  nature  of  the  news  altogether. 

It  seemed  suddenly  to  occur  to  his  companion 
that  the  situation  was  becoming  an  embarrassing 
one,  and  she  uttered  what  came  first  to  her  lips : 
"There  was  something  I  overheard  Charles 
tell  Sally,  his  wife,  the  other  day,  Mr.  Arthur," 
she  said,  without  taking  her  eyes  from  the  stars. 
"I  do  not  know  what  they  had  been  speaking 
of,  but  I  only  heard  Charles  say:  'Never  mind, 
never  mind,  we'll  be  free  soon,  any  how;'  and 
Saily  answered,  '  You'd  better  try  an'  see  if  you 
can't  tell  me  some  news  /'  Such  a  singular  em- 
phasis on  the  word  news.^' 

"You  have  not  mentioned  it  to  your  mother?" 
began  the  minister. 

"No;  but  she  knows  how  it  is  with  the  rest 
of  the  negroes.  There  is  not  a  day  but  some 
negro  says  something  of  the  same  kind,  especial- 
ly when  they  are  whipped,  or  are  threatened 
with  a  w'hipping.  And  Charles  and  Sally  were 
born,  too,  and  have  lived  all  their  lives  in  the 
family,  and  if  ever  servants  were  indulged  they 
have  been." 

"The  truth  is,"  said  her  companion,  after  a 
pause,  "they  hear  so  much  from  the  public 
speakers  and  from  the  conversation  at  table — I 
mean  all  the  negroes  do — I  do  not  wonder  they 
get  such  ideas  in  their  minds.  Besides,  there 
are  several  of  the  mulatto  boys  in  town  who  can 
read,  who  do  read  all  the  papers,  I  am  told, 
and  they  communicate  all  they  know  to  the  rest. 
You  know  the  reason  why  their  Sabbath  service 
was  stopped :  one  of  their  preachers — I  know- 
not  how  true  it  is — is  said  to  have  been  so  swept 
away  in  the  fervor  of  his  prayer  as  to  have  prayed 
most  fervently  for  Freedom.  And  where  they 
got  their  notion  of  their  being  like  the  Jews  in 
bondage  in  Egjqit,  one  day  to  be  delivered  by 
God,  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  they  certainly 
have  such  an  idea." 

"Do  you  think  they  would  be  better  off  if 
they  were  free  ?"  asked  his  companion. 

"No,  I  do  not.  I  confess  the  whole  thing  is 
a  puzzle  to  me.  Their  parental  relation  and"' — 
her  companion  was  about  adding  marriage  rela- 
tion, but  checked  himself  in  time — "is  not  as 
the  Gospel  requires  it  to  be  among  Christians. 
Many  of  our  Southern  ministers  are  writing, 
even  preaching,  upon  the  subject.  Besides,  we 
do  know  that  in  many  respects  the  institution  is 
a  positive  evil  to — well,  to  us — at  least  I  fear  so. 
But  what  to  do  with  them  is  the  question.  If 
we  were  to  send  them  to  Africa — and  how  cottld 


we  ship  off  the  three  millions  of  them  ? — they 
would  relajjse  under  its  climate  into  barbarism. 
They  do  not  do  well  in  any  sense  when  free, 
either  here  or  at  the  North.  I  confess  it  is  all 
a  puzzle  to  me."  Mr.  Arthur  spoke  earnestlv. 
"And  how  is  the  puzzle  to  be  solved?"  said 
Alice,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fleecy  clouds  roll- 
ing rapidly  by  over  the  deep  blue. 

"The  Providence  of  God  will  solve  it,  and  in 
His  own  time  and  in  His  own  way.  I  am  con- 
tent to  wait,"  said  her  companion,  quietly. 

"It  is  strange.  Miss  Moulton  making  us  read 
Guizot's  History  of  Civilization,"  said  Alice,  aft- 
er a  while,  in  a  dreamy  manner.  "I  do  not 
know  what  makes  me  think  of  it  to-night.  It 
was  very  dry  at  first,  but  I  became  deejily  inter- 
ested in  it  at  last.  I  have  never  thought  of  his- 
tory in  that  way  before — a  plan,  a  j)urpose  of 
God  in  the  whole,  from  first  to  last — you  know 
we  were  speaking  about  it." 

"Guizot  is  a  Protestant,  yon  know — has  read 
his  Bible,  Miss  Alice,  though,  like  a  Frenchman 
and  a  philosopher,  he  almost  ignores  the  exist- 
ence of  such  a  book.  Yet  he  has  stolen  his 
whole  idea  from  it.  From  creation  history  is 
the  slow  overturning  of  all  wrong  things  toward 
the  development  of  the  race  and  the  establish- 
ment of  God's  dominion  again  upon  earth.  It 
seems  a  very,  very  slow  process  through  so  many 
ages.  At  times  the  tendency  seems  to  be  in  the 
other  direction  altogether." 

"I  have  been  reading  Dickens  ever  since  I 
can  remember,"  said  Alice,  after  a  long  silence ; 
"and  there  is  one  theme  running  through  all 
his  pages,  and  I  do  believe  it  is  his  dwelling  so 
eloquently  on  that  theme  which  makes  his  books 
so  popular.  I  hardly  know  how  to  describe 
what  that  theme  is — a  steady  denunciation  of 
all  that  wrongs  human  beings,  even  the  lowliest; 
a  continual  dwelling  upon  the  excellence  of  lov- 
ing-kindness toward  the  meanest  and  humblest." 
"  Peace  on  earth,  and  good-will  toward  men  ! 
Yes,  and  this  Song  of  the  Angels  at  the  birth  of 
Christ  is  becoming  every  day  more  and  more  the 
substance  and  staple  of  all  popular  literature. 
Perhaps,"  added  the  theologian,  "Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest  may  come  to  be  blended  in  the 
strain  also  as  the  world  nears  its  consumma- 
tion." 

In  what  a  singular,  thoughtful  mood  they  boili 
are  !  The  still  night,  the  romance  of  the  hour, 
the  desire  to  entertain  each  other. 

"Do  you  remember  Tennyson's  lines — 'Ring 
out,  wild  bells?'"  asked  Alice. 

"And  its  close — 'Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is 
to  be?'     Perfectly  well." 
"And  that 

'  One  far-off  divine  event, 
To  which  the  wliole  creation  moves." 

So  unlike  Byron,  Scott,  and  all  the  old  authors. 
There  is  Locksley  Hall,  all  full  of  the  same 
theme,"  continued  Alice,  her  head  still  leaning 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


65 


.igninst  the  column  behind  her.     ' '  You  remem- 
ber, 

'Slowly  como  a  hungry  people,  na  n  lion  cropping  ni;,'lior, 
Glared  at   one   that  uods   aud  wiuka  buliiud   u  Bluwly- 
dyiug  fire." 

Who  do  you  suppose  he  means  by  that,   Mr. 
Arthur?" 

"All  enslaved  people;  those  in  Hungary. 
Italy,  every  where,"  said  her  companion. 

'•He  means  them  too  when  he  speaks,  in  one 
sha|)e  or  other,  so  often,  of  'a  slowly-dying 
cause,'  I  supjiosc?"  said  Alice. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  the  minister,  after  n  pause, 
"all  Scripture  is  the  Prophecy  of,  and  all  Histo- 
ry is  the  Ivccord  of,  the  slow,  steady  destruction 
over  the  whole  world  of  Feudalism — yes,  Feudal- 
ism is  the  best  word." 

There  follows  hereupon  a  long  silence.  Both 
were  thinking  exactly  the  same  thing.  Like  all 
persons  at  the  South  these  two  had,  from  their 
childhood,  singular  ideas  at  times  to  flash  upon 
their  minds — ideas  easily  staved  oft",  but  often 
returning  —  uneasy  ideas,  disagreeable  ideas; 
ideas  one  prefers  to  leave  in  their  present  nebu- 
lous condition.  Both  have  a  sense  almost  of 
guilt  in  entertaining  such  ideas  an  instant.  Both 
would  deny  ever  thinking  such  a  thing,  if  plainly 
charged  with  such  a  crime.  As  to  uttering  such 
thoughts,  both  are  thoroughly  afraid  to  do  it. 

"How,  then,  about  our  'Institution?'  It 
is  an  ugly  word,  isn't  it — Slavery  ?  I  wonder  if 
it  must  go  down  too?"  ventures  Alice,  at  last, 
being  the  braver  of  the  two.  "  Strange,"  she 
adds,  "  how  full  of  fancies  one  feels  such  a  night 
as  this!" 

"Only  one  hundred  years  ago,  or  so,"  says 
her  companion,  our  'peculiar'  institution,  as  we 
well  call  it,  existed  over  the  whole  world :  no- 
thing peculiar  about  it  then.  Just  look  at  it  to- 
night. Outside  of  the  South,  of  all  the  civilized 
world  only  Brazil  and  Spain  retain  it.  Brazil! 
Spain  !  And  here,  on  this  continent,  it  was  once 
unrestricted  of  its  whole  area ;  now  it  is  crowd- 
ed down — a  thing  abhorred  and  hunted  down  by 
the  world — into  the  South." 

"You  forget  Russia,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  the  Czar  has  already 
decreed  its  extinction.  Serfdom  ceases  in  Russia 
March  17, 1861, "replies  her  companion, eagerly. 

"  And  here  we  are  to-night  watching  against 
an  insurrection  of  slaves  among  us.  That  there 
should  be  slaves  among  us — slaves! — it  strikes 
mc  sometimes  so  oddly !  And  the  movement 
which  has  overthrown  slavery  every  where  else, 
under  us  too  this  very  night.  Pshaw !  what  non- 
sense! and  for  a  South  Carolinian  too!  What 
I  hate  about  it  is  that  those  Yankees  at  the 
North  think  they  are  so  wise,"  said  Alice,  gay- 
ly.  "  But  do  yon  think  it  is  to  cease  among  us, 
Mr.  Arthur?" 

"I  certainly  do.     I  am  as  certain  of  it  as  I 
am  of  the  existence  of  God,"  he  replies. 
E 


"Yes,  but  how?" 

"  I  have  a  sort  of  theory  of  my  own,  Miss 
Alice.  I  believe  slavery  is  now  driven  to  l)av 
here  at  the  South.  I  believe,  too,  that  it  will 
fight  desjieratcly,  perhajis  with  struggles  which 
will  deluge  the  land  with  blood  and  shake  the 
world — long  after  you  and  I  arc  dead,  though. 
Of  the  result  I  am  as  certain  as  I  am  that  every 
wrong  thing  must  go  down  before  God.  No 
use  attempting  to  make  a  China  or  a  Japan  of 
the  South.  Open  the  gates  vmst  fly,  down  the 
walls  must  go  ;  the  Gospel  ivill  have  free  and  \)QT- 
fect  access  to  every  human  being  that  breathes. 
Just  see  those  stars,  great  worlds  they  are,  all 
moving  so  unswervingly,  so  musically  upon  their 
paths  beneath  the  hand  of  the  Almighty;  how 
do  they  assure  us  past  doubt  of  the  presence  and 
power  and  love  of  God !  Such  a  still  night  as 
this,  the  jarring  voices  of  men  hushed,  God's 
great  universe  moving  so  serenely  under  his  lov- 
ing care,  one  feels  content  to  leave  this  little 
star  we  live  in,  too,  in  the  same  hand  that  cares 
for  all  the  rest  of  the  worlds.  I  don't  intend  to 
preach  a  sermon,  Miss  Alice,"  added  the  min- 
ister, in  earnest  tones,  lowered,  too;  "but  you 
believe  it  all  as  well  as  I.  Just  think  of  it.  It 
was  on  this  world  alone  of  them  all  that  God" 
dwelt  in  person,  living  here,  dying  here  for  its 
inhabitants ;  putting  on  then,  and  wearing  for- 
ever henceforth,  the  naiure  of  its  race,  God  and 
yet  a  man  forever!  With  such  assurance  of  His 
special  interest  in  us,  I  am  perfectly  content  to 
leave  this  world  and  all  its  events  in  His  hands. 
And  to  think  that  He  is  no  respecter  of  per- 
sons ;  that  he  died  for,  and  wears  the  nature  of, 
and  cares  equally  for,  the  least  human  being 
that  lives !  You  remember  the  trial  we  are  to 
undergo  at  his  bar:  as  ye  did  it,  or  as  ye  did 
not  do  it  unto  the  leaxt  of  these  little  ones,  ye 
did  it  or  ye  did  not  do  it  unto  me!  When  yon 
think  of  that  sublime  Will  moving  us  silently  on 
in  the  accomi)lishment  of  his  gracious  purposes 
toward  every  being  on  earth  made  in  His  im- 
age, how  idle  and  senseless  and  despicable  do 
all  our  strugglings  against  it  seem  !  To  acknowl- 
edge and  bow  to  that  Supreme  Will  is  the  act  of 
every  sane  intelligence.  To  acquiesce  in,  to  ex- 
ult in  that  glorious  Will  as  in  that  of  one's  own 
personal  friend  and  father  and  saviour,  seems  to 
me  the  very  essence  of  j)iety." 

It  was  not  much  all  this ;  it  was  the  low  tone 
in  which  it  was  said,  it  was  the  mood  in  which 
it  was  heard.  It  was  soul  in  communication 
with  soul. 

Both  knew  how  near  henceforth  they  stood 
to  each  other.  And  well  did  Alice  know  why 
Edward  Arthur  did  not  long  ago,  and  did  not 
to-night,  say  things  of  a  nature  more  interesting 
to  them  even  than  all  this.  Being  proud  her- 
self, she  understood  his  pride,  admired  it,  was 
vexed  at  it  in  the  same  instant. 

"And  you  do  not  have  much  faith,"  said 


66 


INSIDE.— A  CUKUNICLE  UF  {SECESSION. 


Alice,  after  a  long  silence,  "  in  the  success  of 
any  movement  in  defense  of  slavery,  or  in  the  per- 
manence of  any  government  based  on  slavery  ?" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said  her  com- 
panion, quietly.  "  Nor  will  such  a  mad  experi- 
ment ever  be  tried." 

There  was  a  long  pause  in  the  conversation. 
How  utterly  had  they  both  forgotten  fat  Alder- 
man Dr.  Ginnis  and  his  insurrection  !  IJoth  felt 
like  any  thing  else  rather  than  like  those  sitting 
on  the  crater  of  a  volcano  that  night. 

"Yonder  is  a  fire  at  last,"  said  Alice,  really 
gratified  thereby,  pointing  to  the  reddening  hori- 
zon. 

"Yes,  Miss  Alice,  but  one  kindled  by  no  hu- 
man hand — it  is  the  dawn,"  said  her  companion, 
and  with  any  thing  but  the  emotion  of  them 
that  watch  for  the  morning. 

"Dear  me,  I  never  dreamed  it  was  so  late — I 
mean  so  early!"  exclaimed  Alice,  but  a  blush 
followed  the  words. 

"Any  insurrection  yet  ?"  inquired  her  mother 
at  this  juncture,  wakening  and  rubbing  her  eyes. 

"Not  a  bit,  ma;  and,  oh !  I  am  so  disappoint- 
ed," laughed  Alice ;  "  and  after  sitting  up  for  it 
all  night,  too — it  is  too  bad!" 

"  We  used  to  have  some  ground  for  such  things 
when  we  had  our  alarms  in  South  Carolina,"  said 
Mrs.  Bowles,  patient  and  forbearing  for  failure  in 
the  present  instance.  "We  must  write  to  Rut- 
ledge  Bowles  about  it,  Alice;  it  will  amuse  him." 

In  fact,  there  was  a  general  sense  of  disap- 
pointment that  morning  throughout  Somerville, 
a  sense  of  having  been  cheated  and  defrauded, 
i\s  people  yawned  and  stretched  themselves. 
Alderman  Dr.  Ginnis  sank  fifty  per  cent,  in  the 
opinion  of  every  body.  However,  like  all  other 
light  yet  bulky  bodies,  his  depression  on  the  sur- 
face of  things  was  but  for  the  moment ;  his  the 
imperishable  property  of  bobbing  up  again  when 
wind  and  wave  might  serve. 

"Of  course,  do  you  suppose  they  would  rise 
after  they  found  we  had  put  every  body  on  their 
guard?"  chorused  Mayor  and  Councilmen. 

As  to  Mr.  Ferguson,  coming  down  that  morn- 
ing from  his  peculiarly  sound  and  refreshing 
sleep,  more  inflexibly  Scotch  than  ever,  he  was 
insolent  even  in  his  triumph,  hard  to  be  endured 
by  people  surly  after  a  sleepless  night.  How- 
ever, people  were  used  to  Fei'guson. 

"And  who  sat  up  witl\  you,  Alice?"  said  the 
school-girls  to  her  next  day. 

"  My  mother,  of  course.  And,  dear  me,  how 
stupid  it  was!  No  rising  at  last,  either.  I  was 
so  disappointed !"  said  Alice. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
And  so  we  return  at  the  point  from  which 
these  pages  set  forth — the  fall  of  Fort  Donclson, 
and  all  the  boundless  astonishment  which  foUow- 


TIIK  FALL  OK  FOET  D0NEL8ON. 

ed  it.  We  unmoored  our  bark  and  set  sail  under 
the  strong  wind  beginning  to  blow  at  that  date ; 
and  though  we  have  been  compelled  to  reef  sail, 
and  lie  by  for  the  last  few  chajjters  in  order  to 
get  our  ship's  company  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  each  other,  we  will  from  this  moment  spread 
all  sail,  drive  before  the  ever-increasing  blast, 
and  gain  such  haven  in  the  end  as  it  may  please 
Heaven  to  grant. 

"  Exactly  as  I  have  all  along  said  it  would  be, 
only  far  woj-se,"  Guy  Brooks,  Esq.,  is  remark- 
ing to  his  pastor  in  the  study  of  the  latter  at  the 
very  hour  Brother  Barker  is  reasoning  over  the 
same  topic — the  fall  of  Fort  Donelson — with 
placid  Mrs.  Sorel  under  Colonel  Juggins's  hos- 
pitable though  somewhat  leaky  roof.  In  fact, 
everj' person  in  the  South — doubtless  in  the  North 
also — over  ten  years  of  age  is  eagerly  engaged  at 
this  instant  upon  this  same  theme.  There  in  Som- 
erville, the  excitement  being  so  intense,  it  is  but 
natural  a  warm-hearted,  large-limbed  Kentuck- 
ian  like  Guy  Brooks  should  feel  deeply  also. 
And  strongly  disposed  to  converse,  too.  Not  in 
public,  however.  The  time  had  been  when  no 
man  spoke  his  mind  more  warmly  and  freely  be- 
fore Bob  Witiiers,  Sam  Peters,  Brother  Barker, 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts,  Colonel  Juggins — ay,  even 
before  the  dread  Lamum  himself,  apt  to  put  it 
all  in  savage  print  ten  minutes  after;  before  all 
Somerville,  for  that  matter,  than  the  lawyer. 
On  the  streets,  in  his  own  office  with  his  heels 
upon  his  table,  in  good  Sir.  Ellis's  store,  and 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


67 


every  where  else,  the  Kentiu-kian  was  wont  to  give 
hu>  opinion  iijjon  whiUever  the  topic  miyht  l)e. 

Not  so  in  tliese  days.  The  hiwyer  has  altered 
into  a  grave  and  silent  man,  witii  only  occa- 
sional eruptions,  showing  that  the  fnvs  within 
are  only  intcnscr  for  being  sniotiiercd.  What 
lie  would  have  said  every  wiiere  before,  he  now 
utters  only  when  with  such  intimate  friends  as 
Mr.  Ferguson  and  his  pastor. 

In  every  city,  village,  and  neighborhood 
throughout  the  South  it  is  touching  to  see  how 
the  Union  men  cling  to  each  other.  The  ship 
having  jtasscd  eonipletely  into  the  hands  of  muti- 
neers, these  poor  disarmed  passengers  in  the  cab- 
in below,  the  hatches  battened  down  upon  them, 
cluster  instinctively  together  for  comfort,  spec- 
ulating witii  each  other  under  their  breath  upon 
the  storm  raging  around  and  the  breakers  ahead. 
One  of  the  crudest  eticets  of  Secession  was  the 
breaking  up  on  every  scjuare  mile  throughout 
the  South  of  many  a  friendsliip  between  even  the 
oldest  and  most  intimate  friends.  Worse  still, 
families  were  broken  up,  son  turned  against  fa- 
ther, brother  against  brother,  wife  against  lius- 
band.  In  this  latter  and  woi-st  case,  in  nine  in- 
stances out  of  ten  it  was  the  wife  who  was  the 
Secessionist,  while  to  many  a  husband  nothing 
was  left  but  either  to  engage  in  bitter  and  un- 
ceasing strife  at  home,  or  to  play  as  well  as  he 
could  the  patient  part  of  poor  Dr.  Warner.  Yet 
it  would  be  telling  only  half  the  truth  here  if  we 
did  not  add  that,  where  friends  and  relatives 
did  hold  to  their  counti-y  alike,  the  ties  between 
them  were  immeasurably  strengthened  thereby  ; 
friend  loving  friend,  father  loving  son,  brother 
esteeming  brother,  wife  valuing  husband  just  so 
much  the  more  as  they  thought  alike,  felt  alike 
here,  where  thought  and  feeling  had  their  inter- 
twined roots  about  the  soul's  very  centre.  Ay, 
and  persons  never  before  acquainted,  at  enmity 
even,  came  now  together  into  cordial  friendshi]) 
upon  this  one  and  sufficient  ground. 

"I  frankly  confess,"  said  Edward  Arthur, 
drawn  toward  his  burly  friend  as  he  had  never 
been  before,  "every  thing  is  altogether  unlike 
what  I  anticipated." 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "You  min- 
isters are  only  too  ignorant  of  human  nature, 
esiwcially  its  darker  side — which  is  all  over," 
added  the  lawyer.  "You  preach  total  deprav- 
ity from  the  pulpit  as  an  abstract  doctrine,  yet 
ignore  it  in  all  j-our  dealings  with  men  or  ex- 
|)ectations  from  them.  Do  you  remember  that 
day  I  brought  the  first  placard  here  for  you  to 
read  ?  I  prophesied  then  how  it  would  be.  As 
I  knew  at  the  time,  the  whole  programme  had 
idready  been  arranged  by  Lamum  and  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts,  the  Colonel  at  the  ven,'  time  sol- 
emnly sworn  as  a  member  of  the  United  States 
Senate  to  uphold  its  Constitution — only  one  in- 
stance of  a  thousand  similar  perjuries.  And  yet 
we  were  all  so  horrified  at  Louis  Napoleon !     As 


we  all  know,  there  is  a  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  and 
a  Lamum,  in  some  stage  of  development,  in  ev- 
ery town  throughout  the  land.  The  meeting 
called  and  held  by  I  hem  in  our  Court-house  here 
not  a  corporal's  guard  of  the  jMjople  there ;  the 
furious  resolutions  ado|)ted  calling  a  State  Con- 
vention ;  the  blazing  account  thereof  in  the  pa- 
I)er,  was  but  a  specimen  of  like  meetings  engi- 
neered by  like  men  over  the  State.  And  this 
was  the  spontane(jus,  indignant,  unanimous  up- 
rising of  the  people  !  You  know  it  all.  Before 
the  masses  can  realize  it,  lo!  a  Convention  is  in 
actual  session — a  (Convention  voted  for,  and  del- 
egates thereto  elected,  by  only  a  miserable  mi- 
nority of  the  jMJople. 

"And  who  comjiosed  that  minority?"  said  the 
Kentuekian,  becoming  more  and  more  e.xcited. 
"First,  the  politicians  themselves — men  whose 
trade  and  living  is  politics — men  who  saw  their 
power  and  plunder  passing  forever  from  their 
grasp  unless  they  made  just  that  last  desperate 
move.  And  even  they  accomplished  their  end 
only  by  su])erhuman  exertion  through  the  press 
and  from  the  stump.  Next  come  the  set  in  ev- 
ery neighborhood,  following  their  party  leaders 
from  the  very  force  of  habit.  Last,  the  people, 
fancying  Secession  the  only  remedy  against  the 
North.     Remedy?     Good  Heavens !" 

"You  forget,  Mr.  Brooks,"  said  Mr.  Arthur, 
"there  were  really  sensible  and  excellent  men — " 

"Who  voted  for  the  Convention,  and  for 
delegates  to  that  Convention?"  interrupted  the 
lawyer.  "  Yes  ;  Colonel  Juggins,  for  instance, 
and  all  his  class;  and  why?  Because  Lamum 
assured  them  Secession  was  only  a  step  to  Re- 
construction— merely  a  peaceful  Secession!  He 
and  his  no  more  voted  for  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  and  for  war  if  necessarj',  than  did  you 
or  I,  or  Ferguson,  Warner,  Ellis,  and  the  rest 
of  us  who  refused  to  vote  about  a  Convention  at 
all." 

"  I  half  thought  at  the  time  a  terrible  mistake 
was  being  then  made,"  said  his  companion.  "If 
Union  men  throughout  the  State  had  all  sud- 
denly come  into  the  idea  of  a  Convention  when 
it  was  first  proposed  by  the  Secessionists,  had 
voted  for  it,  had  voted  true  men  into  it,  then — " 

"We  would  have  seized  their  one  piece  of  ar- 
tillery, turned  it  upon  the  Disunionists,  and  with 
it  blown  them  to  the — the  moon !"  said  the  law- 
yer. "Ah,  it  is  easy  to  talk!  Or,  if  the  Gov- 
ernor had  but  planted  himself  upon  the  Consti- 
tution from  the  first.  But  what  is  the  use  of 
talking  about  that  now?" 

"You  know  Secession  was  submitted  to  the 
vote  of  the  people  afterward,"  suggested  the  min- 
ister. 

"And  with  great  difficulty  was  that  precious 
Convention  induced  to  do  it,"  said  his  friend. 
"And  when  it  icas  done!  By  that  time  hadn't 
the  politicians  fanned  the  fire  into  a  conflagra- 
tion?    You  remember  how  it  was  commonly 


68 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


declared  then  that  the  man  who  refused  to  vote 
Secession  was  a  base  submissionist.  As  to  him 
who  voted  against  it,  that  man  was  an  Abolition- 
ist, and  the  sooner  hung  the  better.  Freemen  ! 
And  yet  tens  of  thousands  of  the  best  men  in  tlie 
State,  scattered  apart  as  they  were  among  the 
ixcited,  infatuated — " 

"  Don't  let  us  say  fools,"  interrupted  the  min- 
ister. "  We  can  not  keep  our  tongues  too  care- 
fully from  the  violent  language  of  the  day." 

"Did  not  dare  to  vote,"  continued  Mr.  Brooks. 
"You  and  I,  Ellis,  Warner,  Ferguson,  and  the 
like,  did  vote  against  Secession ;  but  I  know, 
and  you  know,  many  a  man  who  dared  not  go 
to  the  polls ;  was  sick  himself,  or  had  a  sick 
child  or  wife,  or  had  pressing  business  some- 
where, some  cowardly  excuse  of  the  sort.  Even 
of  those  who  did  go  to  the  polls,  how  many  were 
prevented  by  the  crowd  about  the  boxes,  and 
couldn't  wait,  or  who  disliked  going  into  such 
excitement,  and  all  that,  didn't  vote  at  last.  I 
tell  you.  Sir,"  said  the  excited  Kcntuckian,  "the 
Signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen<lence  left 
an  illustrious  name ;  but  I  will  hand  down  the 
fact  that  I  voted  against  Secession  to  my  poster- 
ity as  the  noblest  act  of  my  life  ;  my  declaration 
of  independence  of  falsehood  and  folly,  made 
when  at  their  highest  flow." 

"But  a  majority  of  the  votes  cast  were  for 
Secession,"  said  the  minister,  after  a  pause. 

"A  majority  of  the  votes  cast  you  may  well 
say,"  replied  Guy  Brooks.  "But  you  know  as 
well  as  I  whether  it  was  a  majority  of  the  voters 
in  the  State." 

"  And  then  came  the  raising  of  troops  against 
the  South,"  said  Mr.  Arthur,  reflectively. 

"Yes:  and  no  man  in  the  South  had,  in  the 
flush  of  the  moment,  more  disposition  than  I  to 
meet  force  with  force,"  began  the  lawyer.  "At 
first  it  was  a  feeling  sudden  and  universal.  I 
think  you  were  not  altogether  as  clerical  in  your 
language,  Mr.  Arthur,  my  friend,  as  you  might 
have  been,"  he  continued,  with  a  smile.  But 
there  he  stopped. 

Ah,  that  terrible  test  of  conviction  and  prin- 
ciple !  Guy  Brooks  sat  in  silence,  tugging  gloom- 
ily at  the  hair  behind  his  right  ear  with  restless 
fingers,  his  broad,  brown  face  no  longer  open, 
but  full  of  such  anxious  thought  as  men  know 
only  when  bosom  and  brain  are  at  cross  pur- 
pose, when  feeling  and  principle  are  at  strife  for 
ascendency. 

He  said  nothing,  but  he  thought,  thought ! 
And  multitudes  at  the  South  were  at  the  same 
instant  thinking,  thinking,  thinking — not  saying 
a  syllable  of  their  thoughts  even  to  brother  or 
wife. 

If  his  disjointed  thoughts  could  have  been 
written  down  they  would  have  run  somewhat  in 
this  manner:  "We  of  the  South — Southerner! 
Democratic  right  of  self-government.  But  that 
democratic  old  Andrew  Jackson  and  his  native 


South  Carolina  in  1832?  Humjih !  The  old 
General  would  not  have  actually  fought  Caro- 
lina? Perhaps.  South  fighting  for  its  very 
existence  as  a  nation?  Yes;  and  the  United 
States  Government  fighting,  since  need  is,  for  its 
prior  existence.  Secession  in  this  case  ?  Then 
Secession  legitimatized  at  the  North,  East,  West, 
in  tlie  South  over  and  over  again.  Humph  ! 
Universal  disintegration,  dissolution,  death  ! 
Wrong  to  fight  against  thatf 

And  on  and  on — millions  at  the  South  on  the 
same  track  that  instant  with  him — plodded  Guy 
Brooks  slowly,  painfully  through  mire  and  fug. 
Alas,  the  systematic  cff'ort  to  drown  one's  own 
soul  with  the  clamor  of  the  times !  Multitudes 
of  the  noblest  men  of  the  South  were  forced  to 
conceal  their  trains  of  thought  from  others,  from 
themselves.  Alas,  for  the  laborious  process  of 
self-silencing !  Miserable  dissembling  to  one's 
own  self  as  well  as  to  others. 

With  some  it  became  settled  into  a  hopeless 
habit,  for  which  "the  peculiar  times  are  to 
blame,  Heaven  knows,  not  I ;  /  can  not  hel])  it !" 
With  many,  very  many,  the  soul  came  out  of 
the  mire  at  last,  to  see  clearly,  to  stand  firmly, 
to  speak  boldly.  But  that  daylight  has  not  ar- 
rived as  yet  to  Guy  Brooks,  sitting  there  that 
hour  in  his  pastor's  study. 

"I  am  as  well  satkfied  as  a  man  can  be  on 
any  moral  question  that  Secession  is  a  great 
wrong,  a  crime  against  man,  a  sin  against  God." 
The  minister,  as  he  says  it,  walks  to  and  fro 
across  his  study,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him, 
his  chin  drooped  upon  his  bosom.  "But  then 
the  Battle  of  Manassas !  At  the  time  it  seem- 
ed to  me  God's  approbation  of  Secession.  Not 
that  I  thought  for  an  instant  the  Almighty  ap- 
proved of  Secession,"  said  the  minister,  hastily 
correcting  himself;  "  that  I  never  can  bring 
myself  to  believe.  I  mean,  it  began  to  seem  as 
if  the  Almighty  intended  permitting  the  docd, 
as  he  permitted  the  partition  of  Poland.  So  far 
as  we  could  gather  from  our  papers,  the  North 
had  pretty  much  given  the  South  up.  But  now 
this  sudden,  determined,  apparently  overwhelm- 
ing advance  upon  the  South — " 

The  speaker  hardly  uttered  to  himself  even 
the  rest  of  his  sentence.  You  who  know,  could 
you  have  found  just  at  that  date  a  Southern-born 
man  at  the  South  who  would  then  have  inti- 
mated even  to  himself,  much  less  to  his  dearest 
friend,  a  wish  for  the  success  of  the  Federal  arms  ? 
Guy  Brooks  and  Mr.  Arthur  never  were  more 
busy  than  in  keeping  themselves  from  distinct 
thought  upon  the  matter. 

"And  do  you  suppose,"  said  the  lawyer,  at 
last,  "that  the  politicians  did  not  know  all  this 
time  of  the  immense  preparations  being  made 
by  the  Federals  on  shore  and  sea  at  the  North  ? 
No,  Sir.  It  was  no  ignorance  on  their  part. 
From  the  first  they  have  studiously  kept  the 
people   at   the   South   in   profound  ignorance. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIRONirLE  OF  SECESSION. 


69 


THIi   TAUSUN   AND  TUli   LAWVKU. 


Look  at  Bowling  Green !     Who  dreamed  the 


Coufedcrate  Army  there  was  so  small?" 

It  certainly  was  poor  policy,"  said  his  com- 


the  lawyer's  remark.    "It  is  all  of  a  piece.    You 


remember  that  summer  of  the  burnings?" 
The  minister  nodded  his  head  to  this  altopeth- 
panion.  er  unnecessary  question.     If  no  one  else  remem- 

♦•  Knaves  are  always  fools  in  the  end,"  was  ,  bercd  it,  Edward  Arthur  certainly  did,  the  mem- 


70 


INSroE.— A  CHI^ONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ory  of  his  heart  assisting  therein  the  memory  of 
his  head.  That  serene,  starlight  night  ujwn  the 
front  porch  sparkled  in  his  memory  amidst  that 
dark  time  like  a  diamond  set  in  jet. 

"You  may  remember,"  continued  his  friend, 
"  I  had  my  idea  tlien,  as  well  as  Ferguson  his, 
as  to  those  fires,  poisonings,  conspiracies,  book 
agents,  and  all.  1  did  not  utter  my  suspicion 
then  to  a  soul.  I  could  not  believe  it  possible. 
I  do  believe  it  now,"  he  added,  with  a  blow  of  his 
huge  fist  on  the  pastor's  table,  sending  his  heavy 
Concordance  inches  in  the  air. 

"Well?"  inquired  the  other.  "I  confess  I 
am  just  as  much  puzzled  this  hour  upon  the 
subject  as  I  ever  was."  And  he  paused  in  the 
midst  of  his  walk  before  the  lawyer  with  curi- 
osity in  every  line  of  his  face. 

"Sir,  I  suspected  it  tiien ;  I  know  it  now," 
said  the  lawyer,  "The  whole  excitement  in  the 
South  then  was  the  result  of  a  regular  con- 
spiracy." 

"So  Lamum  said  at  the  time,"  not  so  inno- 
cent, however,  of  his  friend's  meaning  as  the 
words  would  indicate. 

"And  the  unprincipled — yes,  it  is  better  to 
use  no  epithets ;  it  may  become  a  habit  these 
awful  times,  and  become  oaths — the  unprinci- 
pled man,"  continued  the  lawyer,  "was  right. 
Only  he  was  himself  one  of  the  conspirators. 
The  whole  plot  was  devised  and  worked  by  him 
and  his  masters.  I  tell  you.  Sir.  not  more  than 
a  dozen  or  two  of  the  ablest  and  most  desperate 
of  tli£  leaders  may  have  been  in  the  secret ;  but 
as  I  believe  in  the  existence  of  Satan,  so  do  I 
believe  that  the  whole  excitement  that  summer 
was  plotted  and  carried  on  by  them  and  by  their 
agents  to  prepare  the  people  at  the  South  for 
Secession.  It  was  not  enough  to  split  the  Balti- 
more Convention,  and  so  bring  about  the  elec- 
tion of  Lincoln — thai  was  in  the  programme. 
But  they  knew  that  even  if  Lincoln  was  elected 
— a  Black  Republican  I  mean,  whatever  his  name 
might  be — the  South  was  not  ripe  for  Secession 
even  for  that ;  and  that  is  the  way  they  ripened 
the  South,  as  by  a  hot-house  process." 

"And  the  John  Brown  Raid?"  asked  Mr. 
Arthur,  with  a  smile.  "No,  Mr.  Brooks,  I  can 
not  agree  with  you  there.  I  have  long  thought 
that  political  ability,  and  political  success,  too, 
whether  on  the  part  of  Louis  Napoleon,  or  of 
JeflT  Davis  and  his  set,  consists  not  so  much  as 
people  suppose  in  creating  or  even  in  anticipat- 
ing events.  No  ;  it  consists  rather  in  instantly 
and  adroitly  seizing  upon  events,  even  altogeth- 
er unforeseen  events,  as  they  arise,  exaggera- 
ting them,  turning  them,  working  thorn  toward 
their  own  end.  The  destruction  of  the  Union 
being  the  end  fixed  upon,  the  politicians  in  Con- 
gress, from  the  stand,  by  the  papers,  and  in  ev- 
ery other  way,  have  strained  every  nerve  to  make 
every  event  a  help  toward  that." 

"And  all  the  time  the  people,  intent  only  on 


their  daily  matter,  dreamed  of  nothing  about 
their  country  but  that  it  was  the  greatest  and 
most  peruiaueut  government  on  earth  1"  said 
Guy  Brooks. 

And  yet  a  great  many  people  at  the  Sonlh 
hold  wiiii  the  lawyer  upon  that  incendiary  sum- 
mer up  to  this  hour.  Not  Mr.  Ferguscm,  of 
course.  As  to  every  thing  being  worked  by  the 
Disuuionists  to  their  own  deadly  end,  he  believed 
that  as  firmlv  as  any  man.  But  for  those  burn- 
ings, the  excessive  dryness  and  heat  of  the  sea- 
son is  the  full  and  sufticicnt  explanation. 

"  Look  at  the  papers  if  you  doubt  there  being 
a  systematic  conspiracy  as  I  say,"  urged  the 
lawyer.  "Do  you  not  see  how  invariably  they 
are  exaggerating  into  the  utmost  importance 
every  thing  favorable  to  their  Confederacy — in- 
variably, systematically  distorting  or  supjircss- 
ing  every  thing  in  the  least  degree  unfavorable 
to  it?  The  tremendous  clatter  they  keep  u])  on 
the  bells  at  every  rumor  of  victory,  only  a  part 
of  the  same  thing.  They  desire  to  establish  a 
manufacturing  interest  at  the  South ;  they  have 
begun  it  with  a  vengeance  in  the  manufacturing 
of  lies — out  of  all  material,  and  out  of  no  ma- 
terial at  all." 

As  we  have  ohserxxd,  it  was  just  after  the 
fall  of  Fort  Donelson  that  the  lawyer  held  this 
conversation  with  his  pastor.  Time  was  to  teach 
him  something  of  the  capacity  of  human  nature 
to  produce,  and  to  believe  in,  falsehoods  beyond 
what  he  or  any  other  man  could  at  that  day 
have  deemed  possible. 

"  '  Nashville  occupied  by  the  Federals  ! 
Not  one  Soul  there  so  base  as  to  Welcome 
them.  Inhuman  Atrocities  already  com- 
mitted THERE  !  North  Alabama  threaten- 
ed !  Grand  Advance  upon  Virginia  !  Fleet 
to  descend  the  mississippi  !     attempt  soon 

TO  BE  MADE  ON  NeW  ORLEANS  !       OuR  AROUSED 

People  ready  to  hurl  them  back.     Theik 

VERY  ADVANCE  PERMITTED  BY  OUR  GeNERALS 
AS  PART  OF  A  BRILLIANT  STRATEGY   SOON  TO  BE 

SEEN  IN  ITS  Fruits  !' "  read  Mr.  Arthur  from 
the  headings  of  the  last  Somenille  Star  lying 
on  the  table.  "It  really  does  seem  as  if  the 
North  was  about  making  a  determined  effort," 
he  continued,  after  a  pause. 

"It  does  indeed;  you  may  well  say  so,"  re- 
plied his  friend,  with  tones  in  singular  contrast 
with  the  gloomy  shake  of  the  head  which  ac- 
companied them.  And  it  was  not  only  singular, 
but  to  the  last  degree  exasperating  to  Lamum 
and  his  set,  the  way  in  which  the  Union  jKJople 
began  to  swarm  out  into  the  streets  from  their 
retreats,  like  bees  on  the  first  burst  of  summer; 
and  the  frequency  and  fullness  and  unction  with 
which  they  spoke  of  "  the  late  most  disastrous 
news." 

Good  Secessionists  shrank  instinctively  from 
all  conversation  with  them ;  but  there  was  a 
wonderful  degree  of  sudden  visiting  among  them- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


71 


selves  on  the  part  of  the  Union  i)eoj)le.  No  two 
of  them  could  meet  on  the  street,  or  upon  tlie 
roads  around,  but  tin  v  must  stop  to  shake  tlieir 
heads  togetlier  in  sad  concert  over  tlic  "terrible 
intelligence,"  and  to  agree  that  "matters  must 
he  much  worse  even  than  our  papers  represent 
ihem,  if  we  only  knew."  Very  sad  tlieir  brows, 
very  doleful  their  tones,  very  desponding  their 
hearts,  like  to  the  grief  of  the  next  heir  beside 
the  dying  couch  of  the  i)rescnt  owner. 

"I  lay  awake  last  night  thinking,  and  I  am 
ready  to  make  you  a  jmiphccy  this  morning 
about  this  war,"  saiil  Mr.  Arthur,  slowly  tearing 
the  disivstrous  news  into  Strips. 

"No,  Sir,  I  had  rather  not,"  said  the  lawyer, 
jiromptly.  "  I  had  enough  of  prophecy  last  night 
to  last  me  a  long  time.  Brother  Barker  drojjjjcd 
into  my  room  at  the  hotel  last  night,  and  kept 
me  up  till  midnight.  'I  am  not  speaking  with 
an  inlidel,  but  with  a  believer  in  the  Scripture  ; 
and  I  fVel  to  believe  I  can  convince  you  from 
the  Bible  the  Confederacy  is  of  God,  and  that 
God  is  going  certainly  to  establish  and  bless  it,' 
he  said.  With  that  he  whips  out  of  his  pocket 
his  little  black  Bible,  and  goes  at  me  exactly  as 
he  used  to  do  about  points  of  doctrine,  only  with 
far  more  zeal." 

"I  do  not  remember  any  Scripture  bearing 
upon  Secession,"  began  Mr.  Arthur. 

"  You  are  behind  the  times.  Sir.  Yon  have 
seen  a  book,  written  by  a  Dr.  Baldwin,  showing 
how  the  United  States  is  clearly  alluded  to  in 
Scripture.  Since  Secession  Baldwin's  idea  has 
been  seized  upon  and  arranged  to  admit  Seces- 
sion and  all  its  glorious  results.  Oh,  I  can  not 
remember  half  the  man's  nonsense!  I  listened 
to  it  as  part  of  the  insanity  of  the  times  with 
some  curiosity.  Abler  and  better  men  than 
poor  Brother  Barker  originated  the  idea;  he 
has  jumped  upon  it  as  his  last  hobby,  and  is 
riding  it  to  death.  Even  Captain  Simmcms  has 
caught  the  infection.  Fullest  of  memories  of 
Sabbath-school  and  Scripture  when  drunkest, 
the  Captain's  religious  knowledge  until  so  warm- 
ed  being  as  invisible  as  the  writing  in  lime  juice, 
he  now  brings,  when  drunk,  an  amazing  number 
of  scriptures  to  illustrate  the  subject  in  hand." 

"  Can  you  not  remember  at  least  one  of  his 
texts?"  said  the  minister,  all  the  theologian  be- 
ginning to  stir  within  him.  "I  am  curious  to 
know  what  even  insanity  can  find  to  favor  the 
Confederacy  in  Scripture." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  his  fingers  bnsy  be- 
hind his  right  ear,  "there  is  the  stone  cut  out 
of  the  mountain  without  hands  which  smote  the 
imap;e — in  Daniel,  I  believe.  The  mountain  is 
the  United  States  Government ;  the  stone  is  the 
Confederate  Government,  which  is  to  grow  into 


Scripture  to  find  plenty  of  reference  to  that  Gov- 
ernment !  Whoever  fell  upon  the  stone  was  to 
be  broken  ;  upon  whomsoever  it  was  to  fall  it 
would  grind  him  to  powder — I  do  not  remember 
where  it  occurs  in  the  Bible — emblematic  of  the 
victorious  strength  of  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment. '  The  North  and  Europe  sneer  at  us  on 
account  of  slavery.  Very  well,'  says  Brother 
Barker, '  the  Bible  expressly  nai/.i  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, it  shall  be  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rock 
of  otfensc.'  All  the  rest  of  the  world  is  infidel, 
is  his  notion,  because  it  rejects  the  Bible  doc- 
trine of  slavery  as  a  divine  right.  In  other  words, 
the  Confederacy  is  the  last,  lingering  abode  on 
earth  of  pure  religion.  'Perfectly  clear  that,' 
says  Brother  Barker ;  '  does  not  Scripture  say  on 
this  rock  or  stone  I  will  build  my  church,  and 
the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  jirevail  against  it  ? 
which  settles  the  result  of  this  war  upon  us  by 
the  North,'  he  said.  Yes,  he  thinks  when  once 
you  have  what  he  calls  a  key,  like  the  symbol- 
ical meaning  of  the  word  stone,  you  can  unlock 
all  i)roi)hccy.  There  is  the  word  seven  also ;  he 
makes  it  refer  in  Scripture  to  the  seven  States 
which  first  seceded;  and  he  runs  that  word  down 
through  the  Bible.  Seven  women  shall  lay  hold 
on  one  man  ;  that  means  those  seven  States  laid 
hold  ujion,  to  feed  and  protect  them,  a  Confed- 
erate Government  over  them  all,  and  so  on. 
Then  there  is  a  prophecy  about  the  Mount  of 
Olives ;  mountain  in  Scripture,  he  says,  means 
the  old  United  States  Government  splitting 
asunder  by  a  line  running  east  and  west,  refer- 
ring to  Secession.  '  Thou  breakest  the  ships  of 
Tarshish  with  an  cast  wind  ;'  Europe  lying  to 
the  east  of  us,  this  is  a  prophecy  of  the  raising 
of  the  blockade  by  the  European  states.  There 
was  a  vast  deal  more  to  the  same  eff"ect,  but  I 
have  forgotten  it.  But  to  do  every  body  jus- 
tice," continued  the  lawyer,  "  though  people 
rather  like  to  hear  Brother  Barker's  expositions 
of  prophecy,  feel  strengthened  by  them,  I  have 
not  heard  of  any  one  as  yet  decidedly  embracing 
them.  'They  may  be  correct ;  we  hope  they  are 
correct,'  is  what  his  hearers  say,  but  that  is  all." 

"To  me  such  a  thing  is  one  of  the  darkest 
features  of  the  times,"  said  the  minister,  very 
sadly.  "  If  ever  there  was  a  time  when  religion 
and  the  ministers  of  religion  should  hold  them- 
selves aloof  from  the  infatuation  of  the  hour  it 
is  now;  for  if  there  is  no  restraining  influence 
exerted  on  the  rising  tide  of  worldliness  and 
wickedness  by  these,  what  is  left  under  heaven 
to  restrain?  I  know  of  no  other  influence  used 
of  God  for  this  purpose." 

"  I  fear  matters  are  going  to  be  far  worse  than 
vou  or  I  have  ever  imagined.  And  this  brings 
me  to  the  matter  I  called  this  morning  esi)ecially 


a  great  kingdom,  and  in  some  way  or  other  fill  to  see  you  upon,"  continued  Guy  Brooks,  rub- 

the  whole  earth.     Ah,  yes,  the  stone  being  the  bing  his  nj)per  lip  with  his  rueful  finger. 
Scripture  emblem  of  the  Confederacy,  you  have        Ah,  that  sinking  of  the  heart,  which  fells  more 

only  to  turn  to  the  places  in  which  it  occurs  in  surely  in  the  bosom  of  impending  evil  than  does 


72 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  mercury  in  the  barometer  of  approaching 
storm !  Not  yet  had  Edward  Arthur  got  used 
to  it;  though  he  was  to  be  made  a  strouger  mau, 
and  by  this  very  process. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  fear  we  are  going  to  have  trouble  in  our 
cliurch — great  trouble,"  said  his  friend. 

"I  think  not,"  said  the  minister,  earnestly, 
but  with  more  hope  in  his  tones  than  in  his 
heart.  "You  remember  I  announced  from  the 
pulpit,  at  the  outset  of  Secession,  that  I  intend- 
ed to  confine  myself  exclusively  to  the  peculiar 
duties  of  my  calling,  and  to  keep  politics  utterly 
out  of  my  sermons  and  my  prayers." 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  replied  his  friend.  "Do 
you  suppose  there  is  a  person  in  Somerville  but 
knows  your  views  in  regard  to  Secession  ?" 

"I  can  not  help  that,"  replied  the  minister. 
"  I  have  the  deepest  and  clearest  convictions  on 
the  subject — how  could  I  but  have  ?  I  have  all 
my  life  been  accustomed  to  express  myself  frank- 
ly to  my  friends  in  conversation  on  every  topic 
which  came  up.  Ujjon  this  topic,  one  so  con- 
tinually up,  one  in  which  I  can  not  but  feci  the 
deepest  interest,  I  have  done  the  same.  What 
else  could  I  do  ?  You  would  not  have  me  dis- 
semble my  honest  convictions,  I  know.  I  have 
sometimes  wished  I  had  been  able  from  the  very 
first  never  to  have  uttered  a  syllabic  on  the  sub- 
ject one  way  or  another  to  a  human  being." 

"You  would  have  possessed  supernatural 
strength  to  have  done  so.  And  even  if  you 
had,"  continued  his  friend,  "your  very  silence 
would  have  had  the  worst  possible  construction 
placed  upon  it.  How  could  you  be  silent,  peo- 
ple would  have  said,  amidst  the  universal  en- 
thusiasm, unless  because  you  could  not,  would 
not  join  in  it?" 

"  But  what  have  I  done  to  imperil  the  church  ?" 
asked  the  young  pastor. 

"You  do  not  pray  for  the  Confederacy." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brooks,  you  know  how  often  we 
have  discussed  that  question.  '  The  powers  that 
be  are  ordained  of  God, '  and  to  the  present  pow- 
ers that  be  I  have  submitted  as  to  the  provi- 
dence, for  the  time,  of  God.  The  Bible  com- 
mands us  to  pray  for  these  powers.  So  I  do 
every  Sabbath  from  the  pulpit  in  the  exact  lan- 
guage of  the  Scripture." 

"You  have  never  prayed  for  the  success  of 
the  Confederate  Government,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"No,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Arthur,  "I  never  have 
in  private  nor  in  public.  What  is  more,  I  nev- 
er will.  Mr.  Brooks,"  continued  the  minister, 
deeply  agitated,  "I  believe  in  my  soul,  as  be- 
fore God,  that  this  whole  movement  is  a  wrong, 
a  crime,  a  sin.  Men  better  than  I  may  not  be- 
lieve so,  but  /do  believe  so.  For  my  life,  after 
all  the  thought,  reading,  and  prayer  I  have  giv- 
en for  years  to  the  subject,  I  can  not  but  believe 
so,  always  have  believed  so,  always  will.  Can 
I,  then,  pray  for  the  success  of  a  wrong,  a  crime, 


a  sin  ?  I  believe  this  whole  movement  is  ruin- 
ous in  every  sense  of  the  word  to  the  whole  laud. 
I  believe  its  success  would  be  sjiecially  disas- 
trous to  my  native  South.  Can  I  stand  up, 
then,  and  ask  the  Almighty  to  bless,  to  prosper, 
to  grant  success  to  the  movement?  No,  Sir,  I 
would  die  first !  Scripture  distinctly  command- 
ed what  Timothy  and  every  other  minister  then 
was  to  do,  Nero  being  then  on  the  throne,  a 
usurper,  and  the  vilest  of  tyrants.  The  com- 
mand is  left  for  the  guidance  of  every  Christian 
now.  I  obey  that  command  literally  and  fully 
in  my  prayer  every  Sabbath  in  the  pulpit — more 
than  that  I  can  not  do." 

"I  perfectly  agree  with  you;  I  heartily  and 
entirely  approve  your  course,"  said  his  friend.. 
"The  plain  truth  is,  I  would  not,  a  good  many 
of  us  would  not,  enter  the  church  if  you  pur- 
sued any  other  course.  Yet  it  will  not  satisfy 
the  Secessionists  in  our  church.  They  have  been 
growling  at  it  for  some  time.  As  the  excite- 
ment deepens,  and  it  is  deepening  every  hour, 
they  will  not  stand  it.     They — " 

"You  know  I  have  often  offered  them  my 
resignation.  It  is  ready  at  any  instant,"  inter- 
rupted the  young  minister. 

"Yes,  and  your  resignation  is  the  closing  of 
the  church,"  said  his  friend,  gloomily. 

"I  had  thought  my  course  met  the  approval 
of  at  least  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the 
church,"  said  the  minister. 

"So  it  does,"  said  the  lawyer;  "but  times 
are  rapidly  coming  when  even  those  entirely  with 
you  in  sentiment  will  not  dare  to  say  so.  You 
see  I  know  men  better  than  you.  And  I  may 
mistake,  but  I  dread  even  more  than  that.  You 
T?ho  by  habit  give  yourself  to  religion,  and  keep 
aloof  from  the  excitement  of  the  streets,  can  not 
imagine  how  this  excitement  is  beginning  to  eat 
into  the  very  piety  even  of  those  who  entirely 
agree  with  you  in  political  sentiment.  Unless 
I  mistake,  you  will  find  even  they  will  cease 
taking  any  interest  in  religion ;  will  cease  from 
attending  public  worship  even,  such  is  the  pa- 
ralysis creeping  over  even  the  best  Christians." 

The  heart  of  the  pastor  had  been  already  too 
full  of  forebodings  not  to  acknowledge  the  truth 
of  all  this. 

"  But  what  do  you  advise  ?"  he  asked  at 
length,  so  sick,  so  deadly  sick  at  heart. 

"  Simply  that  you  pursue  the  even  tenor  of 
your  waj',"  said  his  friend.  "I  have  told  you 
all  this  in  order  to  keep  you  thoroughly  aware 
of  the  exact  state  of  matters.  You  should  feel 
no  mortification  at  it  as  at  a  matter  personal  to 
yourself.  You  need  not  I  should  tell  you  the 
sentiment  of  the  church  toward  you.  But  we 
are  passing  through  a  terrible  revolution — a  rev- 
olution social  and  religioys  as  well  as  civil. 
Your  trial  will  be  that  of,  I  suppose,  every  pas- 
tor in  the  land.  If  you  were  a  Secessionist  that 
would  not  mend  matters,  for  then  the  Union 


INSIDE.— A  CHltONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


73 


people  would  be  against  you.  Let  us  bonr  up 
as  we  best  may  ;  no  man  in  the  land  but  is  smit- 
ten in  some  siiai)e  by  the  accursed  stc])  we  have 
taken  otl'  the  precipice,"  said  the  lawyer,  disre- 
garding in  his  excitement  all  the  rules  of  rhetoric. 
"I  am  sorry  you  are  so  cast  down  ;  you  are  as 
pale  as  a  sheet." 

And  long  and  sad  was  the  conversation  which 
followed  between  tiie  friends,  drawn  now  nearer 
together  thati  ever  before. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  hardly  need  say,"  add- 
ed the  lawyer,  iv>  he  rose  at  last  to  leave.  "We 
are  entering  on  times  of  great  scarcity  and  press- 
ure. At  least  do  not  let  that  trouble  you.  To 
my  last  cent  you  may  depend  on  me.  There  is 
Ferguson,  too — but  I  am  ashamed  even  to  sup- 
pose you  do  not  know  all  this  witliout  being  told. 
Good-by!" 

Witii  the  door  locked,  the  curtains  down,  all 
the  raging  madness  shut  out,  Edward  Arthur 
sank  upon  his  knees  before  One  nearer  to  liim 
and  more  to  him  than  all  the  universe  beside. 
Amidst  the  wreck  of  all  else,  this  seemed  all  that 
was  left  him.  It  was  not  only  his  church,  his 
old  friends,  Alice  too — Alice?  But  he  never 
dreamed  of  regretting  his  opinions.  They  had 
been  as  much  a  matter  of  course  to  him  as  his 
breathing.  Long  he  kneeled  there  in  earnest, 
fervent  prayer,  lie  had  had  troubles  before, 
but  here  was  the  wreck  to  him  of  all  things  at 
once.  Alas,  he  was  only  entering  upon  the  trial ! 
It  was  to  him  but  as  Gethsemanc ;  the  awful  re- 
mainder of  Agony  was  yet  before  him. 

"I  fear  you  are  unwell,  Mr.  Arthur,"  said 
Mrs.  Bowles  to  him  that  night  at  supper.  "We 
wondered  you  did  not  come  to  dinner."  But 
Mrs.  Bowles  was  not  in  her  manner  and  tones 
the  ^Irs.  Bowles  of  other  days.    And  Alice,  too ! 

"But  I  can  not  help  it!"  groaned  Edward 
Arthur. 


CHAPTER  X. 


It  is  late  one  afternoon,  a  few  weeks  after 
this,  that  Edward  Arthur,  seated  in  his  little 
room  there  in  Mrs.  Bowles's  front  yard,  hears 
the  front  gate  open  and  shut,  and  sees  through 
his  window  Mr.  Neely  walking  toward  tiie  house. 
In  tliat  one  glance  he  sees  that  Mr.  Neely  is 
carefully  dressed  in  his  very  best;  sees  all  that 
Mr.  Neely  has  come  for ;  knows  almost  every 
syllable  of  all  that  Mr.  Neely  is  going  to  say; 
sees  and  knows  all  this  witli  a  sudden  glow  which 
tingles  him  from  head  to  heel — a  glow  followed 
by  as  sudden  a  chill.  We  must  endeavor  to  ex- 
cuse the  young  minister,  the  fact  being  that  he 
has  lain  wide  awake  all  the  previous  night  on 
account  of  the  bells. 

On  account  of  the  bells !  At  nine  o'clock  ex- 
actly the  niglit  before.  Bill  Perkins,  the  stage- 
driver,  had  driven  up  to  the  door  of  the  hotel. 


Long  before  he  could  rein  in  his  horses  a  dozen 
voices  from  the  crowd,  which  now  awaits  his  ev- 
ery arrival  in  the  ample  porch  of  the  hotel,  hails 
him — "Any  news.  Bill?     What's  the  news?" 

Bill  Perkins  is  aware  of  his  importance,  and 
is  silent  and  even  dignified  accordingly.  No 
man  there  so  calm  as  he,  though  his  team  is 
all  in  a  foam,  and  he  an  hour  earlier  than  usual 
on  account  of  the  news  which  burns  in  his  bo- 
som. Their  classic  readiflg  being  extremely  lim- 
ited, the  scries  of  stage-drivers  of  which  Bill  Per- 
kins is  one  are  not  aware  of  the  fact  that  they 
strongly  resemble  the  runners  in  that  one  of  the 
old  Olymjiic  Games  in  which  each  one  bears  at 
full  speed,  and  transmits  in  full  blaze  to  the 
one  next  beyond  him,  a  lighted  torch.  During 
the  last  hundred  hours  or  so,  each  driver  on  the 
line,  catching  the  news,  with  the  reins  and  whip, 
from  the  one  before,  has  borne  it  on  like  a  torch 
indeed,  setting  aflame  with  the  great  and  glori- 
ous tidings  all  the  country  as  he  drives  along. 
Perhaps  it  is  on  account  of  its  being  transmitted 
so  far,  and  from  hand  to  hand  so  often,  that  the 
torch  blazes  larger  and  brighter  for  every  mile  it 
is  borne  over,  as  with  the  very  rapidity  of  its 
transmission. 

"The  news!  What  is  the  news?"  says  Bill 
Perkins,  at  last,  very  slowly,  and  with  consid- 
erable irritation  in  his  manner.  "Ask  me  if 
there's  any  news !  I  guess  there  is  news  ! "  And 
Bill  Perkins  is  thereujMn  silent,  enjoying  the  de- 
pendence of  the  assembled  crowd,  and  all  Som- 


74 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SEC;ESSION. 


erville  behind  it,  upon  his  single  tongue.    Here 
is  tlie  possession  of  jiowcr,  and,  like  all  of  us,  he  j 
greatly  enjoys  it.    The  moment  his  news  is  spoken 
he  vanishes  from  public  attention,  and  he  knows  it. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  you  Jake,"  he  says  to 
the  negro  hostler,  amidst  the  breathless  atten- 
tion of  the  crowd,  "you'd  better  have  them 
horses  a  little  cleaner  when  I  come  to  leave  to- 
morrow than  they  were  last  time ;  better  had, 
or  I'll  Jake  you  till  your  very  wool  '11  come  out 
o'  curl !  No,  they  ain't  any  ])assengers.  What 
are  you  unbuckling  them  straps  for?  Tiiink  I 
kerry  trunks  about  behind  jest  fur  the  fun  o' 
the  thing?  Gentlemen,  do  shet  up  till  I  kin — 
News  ?  I  rather  guess  there  is  news !  Great 
battle  at  Corinth !  Glorious  victory !  Yankees 
whipped  all  to  smash !  Beauregard's  taken  pris- 
oners all  he  hasn't  killed,  an'  that's  fifty  thou- 
sand !  Battalions,  gun-boats,  brigades,  all  kep- 
tured!  Sydney  Johnson  killed,  only  that's  known 
to  be  a  lie.  But  get  out  o'  the  way,  gentlemen, 
I  must  drive  to  the  Post-office.  Can't  you  wait 
till  the  mail  is  open  and  get  your  papers?" 

And  having  keenly  enjoyed  his  momentary 
importance,  Bill  Perkins  subsides,  as  he  drives 
oflf,  into  private  life  till  the  next  time. 

But  the  news !  It  is  to  the  crowd  like  fire  to 
powder.  Such  a  brightening  of  faces,  such  a 
shaking  of  hands,  such  a  chorus  of  yells !  Peo- 
ple hurry  oif  to  their  homes  to  tell  it  to  their 
waiting  families.  Men  who  live  in  the  country 
can  not  wait  till  the  mail  is  opened,  but  mount 
their  horses,  tied  hard  by,  and  gallop  oft'  at  the 
risk  of  their  necks  through  the  darkness  to  tell 
the  news  at  home,  then  to  gallop  back  again  for 
their  papers.  Lamum  only  stops  to  say,  "The 
bells,  boys,  the  bells !  Every  bell  in  Somer- 
ville !"  and  is  in  the  Post-office  and  his  hand  in 
the  mail-bag  almost  before  the  Postmaster  can 
unlock  and  draw  out  the  chain  through  the  iron 
loops  thereof. 

It  is  a  little  strange  about  Dr.  Peel.  Up  to 
the  arrival  of  the  stage  he  had  been  one  of  the 
foremost,  and  certainly  the  loudest,  of  the  crowd 
at  the  hotel  awaiting  the  stage.  No  man  so  con- 
fident as  he  that,  "  Mark  my  word,  gentlemen, 
there'll  be  great  news  to-night;"  consigning  his 
soul  most  emphatically  to  perdition  if  his  proph- 
ecy is  not  correct.  But  Dr.  Peel  has  made  many 
a  similar  prophecy  similarly  emphasized  before  ; 
in  fact,  he  never  ceases  from  prophecies  to  the 
same  eflPect  all  day  long  and  all  over  Somerville, 
so  that  people  have  come  to  attach  not  so  much 
meaning  to  his  words  as  they  used  to  do.  It  is 
strange,  then,  that  he  is  not  among  the  foremost 
in  ]>ressing  around  Bill  Perkins  when  Bill  first 
drives  up.  Nobody  notices  him  when  Bill  has  first 
announced  the  great  news.  They  would  have 
been  surprised  at  the  singular  pallor  of  his  face 
as  he  stands  a  little  back  in  the  shadow  cast  by 
the  large  lamp  hanging  in  front  of  the  hotel  from 
one  of  the  pillars  of  the  porch. 


Nobody  notices  him  in  the  wild  excitement  of 
the  hour ;  but  he  is  silent,  has  ceased  even  from 
cursing,  is  suddenly  shrunken  from  his  burly 
prominence,  ague-struck,  dumb.  It  is  not  for 
long,  however.  Ten  minutes  later,  and  Dr. 
Peel's  lumbering  form  and  heavy  black  brow 
and  exultant  profanity  is  foremost  as  usual.  He 
can  hardly  make  his  voice  heard,  for  three  citi- 
zens arc  ringing  at  the  tavern  bell,  while  Joe 
Staples,  the  hotel  keeper's  little  boy,  is  beating 
the  gong,  relieved  in  turns  by  such  of  his  com- 
panions, sjiecially  favored  thereby,  a.s  are  not 
engaged  in  firing  their  revolvers  and  ringing  the 
church  bells. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  roars,  with  stentorian  oaths, 
slapping  down  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  on  the 
hotel  counter  as  he  docs  so,  "  there's  twenty  dol- 
lars toward  powder  to  celebrate  this  glorious 
news;  and  there's  another  ten  toward  liquor  for 
all  who  will  help  me  drink  success  to  Beaure- 
gard and  perdition  to  the  Yankees!" 

But  there  must  have  been  a  good  deal  more 
than  twenty  dollars'  worth  of  powder  fired  off 
that  night  from  the  two  cannon,  the  four  anvils, 
and  the  innumerable  rifles  and  revolvers  in  Som- 
erville. As  to  ten,  it  was  rather  many  hun- 
dreds that  went  that  night  across  the  counters 
of  every  grocery  in  Somerville  for  liquor;  the 
bells  scattering  the  news  meanwhile  over  all 
the  country  for  miles  around. 

All  night  Lamum  is  busy  in  his  office  reading 
the  papers,  writing  editorials,  answering  ques- 
tions to  the  crowd  pouring  through  it  like  a 
thoroughfare,  all  flushed  and  noisy  but  he.  With 
stooped  shoulders,  face  beaked  like  a  kite,  and 
thin,  sharp  voice,  he  is  the  acknowledged  intel- 
lect and  oracle  of  the  hour,  ruling  by  his  very 
paleness,  confidence,  and  coolness.  There  is  a 
tone  of  asperity  even  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
alludes,  from  time  to  time,  to  the  excitement  of 
the  hour.  "Acting  as  if  you  did  not  know  who 
would  whip !"  he  says.  No  outward  sign  there- 
of; but,  ah,  how  keenly  he  enjoys  the  hour! 
Sweeter  taste  of  bliss  this  man  will  never  know 
so  long  as  his  soul  endures. 

All  night  long  people  came  galloping  in  on 
horseback  from  the  country.  The  dispatches 
are  read  over  and  over  again  at  every  bar  in 
town;  beside  the  hotel  lamp  in  front  of  the 
hotel;  by  fathers  at  home  in  shirt  and  drawers 
to  the  mothers  in  night-gowns,  and  the  children 
starting  up  from  cradle  and  trundle-bed,  won- 
dering and  crying.  All  night  neighbors  are  hur- 
rying into  each  other's  houses  to  talk  it  all  over; 
and  so,  from  where  the  news  smote,  like  a  stone 
in  the  centre  of  a  lake,  there  at  the  hotel  door, 
the  waves  roll  and  spread  until  they  die  ofl"  into 
all  the  country  around  miles  away.  There  has 
been  a  slight  misunderstanding  between  Captain 
Simmons  and  Bob  Withers  at  a  grocery,  however. 
'  "  What  I  say  is,  by  George,  I  want  to  see  all 
i  this  news  confifraed  first !     Suppose  it  shouldn't 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


76 


be  tiiie,  by  Georpe !"  is  what  Bob  Withers  has 
remarked  over  and  over  a^ain  as  lie  Imlds  on  to 
an  awninR  post  in  front  of  a  blazinp  buntire. 

"  Look  here,  Bob  Witliers :  I  tell  you,  Sir, 
vou  nuisin'l  say  that ;  you  oughtn't  to  say  tliat," 
Captain  Simmons  has  remarked,  as  drunk  as 
Witliers,  but  only  the  stitfer  in  attitude,  und  the 
more  quarrelsome  on  thai  account. 

"Confirmed,  gentlemen,  that's  what  I  say; 
coutirmed  is  what  I  want  this  news  to  bo  first. 
Yes,  by  George,  conjirmeil T'  hiccups  Bob  With- 
ers, regardless  of  the  Cajjtain. 

"Any  man,  such  a  glorious  night  as  this,  who 
can  refuse  to  believe  news,  siuh  news,  is  a  trai- 
tor!" says  Captain  Simmons,  still  more  sternly. 
Unlike  poor  Bob  Withers,  the  Captain  prides 
himself  upon  l)eing  a  gentleman  in  the  genteel 
sense  of  the  word.  Were  not  his  parents  highly 
respectable  peo])le,  members  of  the  church,  spe- 
cially careful  in  his  training?  Hence  it  is  the 
Captain  never  dresses  excejjt  in  black,  even  in 
summer.  As  to  Boh  Withers,  the  drunker  he 
gets  the  lower  he  descends.  The  drunker  Cap- 
tain Simmons  is,  only  that  much  higher  he  as- 
cends. When  sober,  which  is  becoming  a  very 
rare  thing  with  the  Captain,  he  is  but  a  com- 
mon sort  of  person ;  but  as  he  waxes  intoxicated 
his  reminiscences  of  parents,  and  church,  and 
Bible-class,  and  college,  and  the  term  he  served 
in  the  Legislature,  and  all  his  past  respectabil- 
ity in  general,  become  more  and  more  vivid. 
It  is  when  at  his  deepest  j)0ssible  stage  of  drunk- 
ennass  that  the  Captain  is  in  bearing  and  lan- 
guage the  very  Chesterfield  of  Somerville.  He 
now  stands  regarding  Bob  Withers  with  lofty  in- 
dignation. 

"Confirmed,  gentlemen!"  exclaims  Bob,  still 
more  loudly,  more  dogged  in  his  insane  notion, 
blinking  gravely  with  owlish  eyes  upon  the 
crowd,  "  that's  what  I  want,  by  George !'' 

"This  most  disreputable  individual  is  a  trai- 
tor, gentlemen,"  says  Captain  Simmons,  slowly 
and  solemnly;  "a  Yankee  at  heart,  an  Aboli- 
tionist in  disguise.  By  sainted  parents  I  was 
carefully  instructed  never  to  fight,  never  even  to 
associate  with  drunken  squabblers.  This  ease 
must  be  made  an  exception.  He  is  inebriated, 
I  know,  but  even  his  pitiable  condition  shall  be 
no  protection."  And  the  Captain,  lifting  his 
cane  and  advancing  ujion  him,  is  prevented  only 
by  the  crowd  from  inflicting  merited  chastise- 
ment. 

But  Colonel  Rot  Roberts  is  at  this  juncture 
dragged  out  of  Lamum's  office,  after  having  been 
called  for  in  vain  for  the  last  three  hours.  Dr. 
Peel  has  opened  a  basket  of  Champagne,  and 
Colonel  Ket  Roberts  is  very  drunk  by  this  time, 
though  Dr.  Peel  and  Lamum  are  not.  But 
zealous  friends  stand  close  around  the  hogshead 
upon  which  the  Senator  totters  to  catch  him 
when  he  falls. 

Oh,  divine  gift  of  eloquence! — given  not  to 


one  man  in  multitudes,  and  not  by  one  man  in 
thousands  to  whom  it  is  given  used  but  for  the 
basest  of  purposes.  People  have  heard  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts  before ;  no  wonder,  as  the  news 
spreads  that  he  is  speaking,  all  groiii>s  break  up 
from  hotel,  grocery,  bonlirc,  street  corner,  and 
hurry  toward  the  spot.  In  a  little  while  hun- 
dreds of  excited  faces  show  around  him  through 
the  half  light,  half  shadow  of  torch  and  bonfire 
as  he  speaks.  The  frantic  ai)plause  as  he  stead- 
ies himself  to  begin  drowns  even  the  sounds  of 
scattering  shots  and  the  jwalings  of  the  church 
belLs,  intoxicated  with  their  own  clamor. 

The  bells !  As  the  suggestion  had  broken 
from  Lamum's  lips  boys  and  men  had  raced  oft" 
toward  every  church  in  Somerville.  True,  the 
doors  of  each  church  were  locked.  But  what 
diff"erence  did  that  make  ?  The  news,  the  great 
news,  the  glorious  news !  Sashes  were  smashed 
in,  doors  burst  open,  the  very  churches  made  to 
take — alas!  and  not  in  that  way  alone  during 
these  days — the  noisiest,  rowdiest  part  in  the 
jubilee.  And  it  is  of  no  use  stopi)ing  up  the 
access  to  the  bell-ropes  afterward.  During  all 
these  days  they  hang  within  open  and  easy  reach 
to  the  hand  of  whosoever  chooses  to  pull. 

But  the  voice  of  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  rises  clear 
and  strong  and  fascinating  above  every  other 
sound.  Falsehood,  fact,  fierce  invective,  anec- 
dote, prophecy,  appeal — how  smoothly  they  flow 
from  his  lips !  No  belted  earl  in  Europe  has  so 
supreme  a  contem])t  for  the  people  as  has  this 
South  Carolina  cavalier ;  hardly  concealed  even. 
He  speaks  now,  as  always,  not  so  much  to  the 
mob  around  him,  nor  for  their  hearing,  as  just 
because  he  thereby  gratifies  himself.  He  speaks 
as  naturally  and  as  necessarily  as  a  river  pours 
its  water,  or  as  a  mocking-bird  sings. 

And  how  they  applaud !  Men  stand  there 
yelling  with  laughter  at  his  jokes  whose  daily 
business  is  utterly  ruined  by  what  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts  and  his  set  have  brought  to  pass.  Col- 
onel Juggins  has  ridden  in  by  this  time,  sum- 
moned through  the  night  and  the  mud  by  the 
bells  and  the  cannon.  How  cordially  he  agrees 
in  the  speaker's  bitter  descriptions  of  the  Aboli- 
tionists, not  even  dissenting  at  the  exciting  in- 
stant to  the  horrible  oaths  with  which  it  is  pep- 
pered !  Colonel  Juggins  with  his  plantation 
swarming  with  negroes,  and  so  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  it  is  just  that  speaker  there  before  him 
who,  aided  by  his  like,  have  secured  the  speedy 
j  emancipation  of  every  negro  he  owns !  Aboli- 
1  tionist !  For  practical  abolitionism  Wilber- 
force,  Clarkson,  Burdett,  Beecher,  Garrison, 
Brown,  and  all  the  rest,  with  all  their  meetings, 
petitions  to  Parliament  and  Congress,  speeches, 
books,  papers,  pikes,  and  torches,  are,  in  com- 
parison with  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  and  his  class, 
but  as  the  jury  to  the  executioner.  And  not  a 
man  in  that  excited  crowd  dreams  of  it ! 

There  is  Sampson,  the  carpenter,  listening  with 


76 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


COLONEL  RET  ROBERTS  MAKES  A  SPEECH. 

both  ears,  never  wincing;  even  when  the  Colonel  1  he  exults  in  the  demoralization  of  the  North, 
culminates  his  denunciation  of  the  Federal  army 'its  speedy  bankruptcy  and  ruin,  as  prophesied 
as  being  composed  of  "base  mechanics!"  Sta-  '  by  the  speaker;  so  ignorant  that,  of  his  three 
pies,  the  hotel  keeper,  has  left  his  hotel  to  take  ]  boys  turned  by  the  Colonel  and  his  set  from 
.care  of  itself  while  be  can  bear  Roberts.     How  I  thriving  citizens  into  soldiers,  one  lies  at  that 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


77 


moment  (lend  at  Shiloh,  another  is  to  suffl'r  ani- 
jmtation,  and  consequent  deatli,  to-morrow  at 
Corinth,  while  George,  the  hist  but  one,  is  to 
be  returned  at  the  end  of  the  war  a  drunken  loaf- 
er until  his  death.  Yes,  there  stands  Staples, 
his  hat  left  behind  in  his  hurry,  his  red  and 
LMioruious  crop  of  hair  on  head  and  face  full 
one-fourth  of  the  man  it  seems,  for  Staples  is  but 
a  small  man,  and  was  once  a  tailor  ;  disheveled 
and  bristling  and  electric  with  the  glorious  news 
in  every  fibre,  with  eyes  sparkling  through  it 
like  those  of  a  ferret,  mouth  agape,  hamls  ec- 
static, how  he  listens  and  laughs  and  applauds, 
more  of  a  lunatic  than  sane  to-night ! 

In  the  name  of  God's  eternal  justice,  if  Bene- 
dict Arnold  deserved  death  for  attcmjiting  to  be- 
tray and  ruin  his  country,  what  do  Colonel  Ket 
Roberts  and  his  gang  deserve — deserve  at  the 
hands  of  the  South,  who  have  so  terribly  suc- 
ceeded therein  ?  Let  them  escape  the  gallows, 
unhung  as  traitors,  none  the  less  will  they  swing 
forever  in  the  chains  of  history  as  the  greatest 
criminals  that  ever  blundered  through  blood  and 
mire  since  the  days  of  Cain — criminals  whose 
wickedness  was  exceeded  only  by  their  folly ! 

"  Sheep,  sheep,  sheep,"  Mr. Ferguson  has  been 
mnrmuring  to  himself  all  night;  "and  herded 
here  and  herded  there,  as  sheep  always  are,  by 
smart  dogs,"  adds  Mr.  Ferguson  to  himself,  from 
recollections  of  his  native  hills  and  glens.  As 
to  believing  in  the  news  of  the  night,  not  exact- 
ly. ;Mr.  Ferguson  disbelieved  it  in  advance 
when  he  first  heard,  that  night,  the  rattle  of  the 
approaching  stage.  He  disbelieved  it  still  more 
strongly  when  he  heard  the  uproar  which  fol- 
lowed its  announcement.  Truth  is,  by  this  time 
Mr.  Ferguson  and  Somerville  occupy  in  regard 
to  each  other  opposite  ends  of  an  ever-moving 
plank,  like  children  playing  see-saw.  When 
Somerville  goes  down  in  heart  up  goes  the  Scotch- 
man, never  so  cheerful  as  when  his  friends  and 
fellow-citizens  arc  gloomiest.  To-night  Somer- 
ville revels  in  the  ascendant  over  Yankees  and 
universe,  but  very  low  in  spirits  is  the  Scotch- 
man, indignant  all  the  time  at  himself  for  being 
so,  the  news  being,  whatever  it  is,  so  absurd ! 
Not  that  he  went  down  from  his  room  to  ascer- 
tain its  nature ;  being  all  a  lie,  why  should  ho  ? 

There  was  one  satisfaction  in  it — he  would 
have  another  flaming  sheet  to  add  to  his  collec- 
tion. Beginning  with  the  summer  of  the  burn- 
ings, he  already  had  a  large  one.  Not  a  placard 
posted  on  the  walls  of  Somerville  from  the  first 
in  relation  to  the  matter,  not  a  notice  of  thanks- 
giving for  victorv-,  not  a  sermon  upon  the  war 
jtreached  by  minister  or  bishop,  not  a  document 
of  the  kind  had  so  far  come  within  his  reach 
Imt  he  had  seized  upon  and  placed  it,  in  its  due 
order,  upon  file. 

If  any  man  tried  desperately  to  sleep  that  night 
!\rr.  Ferguson  did ;  but  Mr.  Ferguson  did  not  suc- 
ceed, the  bells  were  too  strong  even  for  him. 


As  to  the  Union  people  in  general,  you  saw 
few  of  them  on  the  streets  tiiat  night.  Doctor 
Warner  went  to  the  ofiice  for  his  |)aper — but 
that  is  no  rule.  Mrs.  Warner  made  him  go. 
She  read  the  paper  on  his  return,  sitting  up  in 
bed  in  her  night-cap,  the  Doctor  holding  the 
candle,  and  enduring  in  his  own  person,  from 
his  wife,  the  whole  Federal  defeat  of  Shiloh  over 
again.  There  were  others  of  the  Union  jicoplo 
who  gliilcd  swiftly  and  stealthily  into  the  office, 
obtained  their  papers,  and  studied  ihem  on  their 
retmn  home — gathering  far  less  cause  for  the 
pealing  bells  and  the  reports  of  cannon  and  guns 
than  others  found.  It  is  astonisliing,  it  is  per- 
fectly amazing,  they  should  find  so  much  to  ex- 
ult in !  they  said  to  themselves — and,  in  strict 
confidence,  to  each  other  next  day  of  the  people 
of  Somerville ;  j'ct  they  themselves  were  far, 
very  far,  from  being  as  cheerful  under  all  the 
circumstances  as,  according  to  their  own  views 
of  the  tidings,  they  should  have  been. 

In  Somerville,  as  in  every  town  on  earth, 
there  existed  what  may  be  called  the  wavering 
one-third.  That  is,  one-third  of  the  population 
was  sincerely  and  decidedly  in  favor  of  Seces- 
sion— firm  believers  in  the  JMillennium  it  was 
about  producing ;  another  third  was  still  more 
decidedly  of  the  conviction  that  the  South  was 
wrong,  and  had  nothing  but  evil  to  expect  in 
consecpience ;  the  remaining  third  believed  in 
nothing  so  clearly,  inflexibly,  and  consistently 
as  this — that  the  winning  side  was  the  right 
side.  When  with  Unionists  the  waverer  was  a 
Unionist  too,  but,  "Bless  me,  we  must  be  guard- 
ed in  our  language  during  such  times  as  these, 
you  know!"  AVhen  with  Secessionists  the  wa- 
verer was,  "  I  confess,  somewhat  doubtful  about 
the  step  at  first,  but  now  that  we  are  in  it,  of 
course  there  is  but  one  course  left  us ;  we  are 
all  agreed  in  that,  I  suppose!"  And  now  that 
this  last  news  has  come,  the  waverer,  when  witli 
the  Secessionists,  sliakes  hands  and  smiles  amidst 
the  universal  smiling  and  hand-shaking,  gladly 
lost  among  the  crowd.  When  thrown  in  private 
with  his  Union  friend  the  waverer  has  nothing 
special  to  say — only  arches  his  brows  and  gives 
a  mournfid  siirug  of  his  shoulder  at  the  delusion 
of  the  rejoicing.  The  symjjathy  of  the  waverer 
with  such  a  man  as  Guy  Brooks  just  now — Cor- 
inth j)ealing  with  all  its  cannon  in  his  ears — is 
very  much  that  of  the  Frenchman  who  took  off 
his  hat  to  the  antique  statue  of  Jupiter.  "  Who 
knows,"  said  the  Gaul,  "but  he  viay  get  his 
head  above  water  once  more !" 

When  the  first  stroke  of  the  first  bell  smote 
on  the  ear  of  Edward  Arthur,  studying  in  his 
room,  it  struck  like — it  may  be  an  awful  thing 
to  say  of  a  Southern  born.  Southern  raised  man, 
but  none  the  less  must  the  truth  be  told — a  cruel 
blow. 

"  It  is  the  last  desperate  effort  of  the  Yankees 
to  subjugate  the  South,"  Mrs,  Bowles  had  said, 


78 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


before  the  news  came,  that  nij^ht  at  supper. 
"They  obtained  a  partial  and  greatly-exagger- 
ated success  at  Fort  Dunelson,  on  account  of 
their  gun-boats.  Our  Generals  were  inexpe- 
rienced, perhaps  cowardly,  then.  The  South 
was  slumbering  in  full  belief  the  war  was  over ; 
but  now  the  two  armies  are  in  front  of  each 
other  near  Corinth  you  will  see  a  different  re- 
sult. Their  gun-boats  can  not  help  them  then. 
Our  Generals  are  exi)erienced  and  brave.  The 
entire  South  has  swarmed  to  their  assistance.  I 
believe  in  our  army ;  I  believe  in  our  cause,  as 
that  of  a  people  struggling  to  be  free  from  cruel 
tyranny.  I  believe  in  a  just  God,  above  all,  and 
I  know  already  the  victory  is  ours!"  said  Mrs. 
Bowles,  with  glowing  cheek.  "If  it  was  not 
that  Rutledge  Bowles  is  at  the  head  of  his  Com- 
]jany  in  Virginia,  soon  to  be  victorious  there,  I 
would  only  regret  he  is  not  at  Corinth  to  share 
that  great  victory  I" 

And  now  hardly  has  the  pastor  seated  him- 
self after  this  in  his  room  before  the  bells,  and 
the  shouts,  and  the  roar  of  cannon  announce 
that  Mrs.  Bowles  is  right.  As  h6  sits  he  can 
hear  the  instant  and  joyful  bustle  in  the  house. 
Ue  hears  Mrs.  Bowles  hurry  the  negro  Charles 
down  to  the  office  for  the  papers.  lie  hears 
Alice  and  her  mother  conversing  eagerly  to- 
gether as  they  await  his  return.  He  hears 
Charles  return ;  can  hear  Alice  reading  aloud 
the  dispatches  to  her  motlier ;  hears  Mrs.  Bowles's 
loud  "Oh,  thank  God!  thank  God!"  mingled 
with  even  weeping.  Had  it  been  in  regard  to 
any  thing  else  in  the  world  he  would  have  been 
with  them,  and  one  with  them. 

But  as  it  is?  A  great  gulf  yawns  between 
him  and  the  rejoicing  town ;  between  him  and 
the  very  family  in  which  he  lives,  heretofore  one 
in  every  thing ;  between  him  and  Alice !  There 
is  a  pause ;  and  then  the  voice  of  Alice  at  the 
piano  rings  clear  to  the  song  of  Dixie,  and  then 
of  the  Bonnie  Blue  Flag.  There  is  another 
pause ;  then  Alice  plays  more  slowly,  sings  more 
sweetly  :  it  is  a  Psalm  this  time — the  Forty-sixth 
Psalm.  Edward  Arthur  well  knows  why  ;  it  was 
the  Psalm  sung,  he  has  often  heard  Mrs.  Bowles 
tell,  in  the  Major's  father's  family  by  the  whole 
household,  white  and  black,  after  the  news  of 
the  surrender  of  Cornwallis.  All  this,  and  he 
sitting  there  in  his  room  separated  from  all  the 
world. 

Shall  he  dash  away  from  him  every  thing,  go 
in  the  house,  congratulate  them  on  the  glorious 
news,  rejoice  with  her — with  Alice — with  the 
whole  world  rejoicing  around?  He  sinks  his 
head  upon  his  hands  resting  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  tries  to  go  over  the  whole  question  of 
Secession  from  the  first.  Was  Secession  a  right 
thing?  During  these  last  two  years  he  has,  in 
reading  and  in  conversation,  made  himself  per- 
fectly familiar  with  every  thing  that  can  be  said 
on  both  sides  of  the  question.     He  had  brought 


to  the  investigation  no  prejudices  or  partialities 
except  in  favor  of  the  South,  in  which  he  has 
lived  all  his  life,  out  of  which  he  never  expects 
or  desires  to  be  as  long  as  he  lives.  Distrustful 
of  himself,  he  has  ever  sought  divine  guidance 
herein.  Leaning  his  brow  upon  his  table  he 
sinks  upon  his  kneas,  and  goes  again  over  the 
whole  subject  in  the  language  and  feeling  of 
prayer.  How  ardently  he  desires  to  believe  Se- 
cession, under  all  the  circumstances,  to  have 
been  a  right  thing  before  man  and  before  God  ! 
But  with  all  the  loud  opinion  of  Somerville 
ringing  at  the  instant  in  his  ears,  for  his  life  he 
can  not  effect  the  slightest,  most  momentary 
agreement  in  himself  with  that  opinion.  Seces- 
sion was — is  a  wrong  thing.  But  so  many  at 
the  South  disagree  with  him  here?  He  can  not 
help  it ;  to  him  Secession  was — is  a  great  wrong. 
But  so  many  pious  Christians,  learned  and  pious 
ministers  have  believed  in  it,  have  written  and 
preached  in  its  favor,  have  entered  into  it  as 
the  very  cause  of  right  and  truth  and  God  him- 
self? They  are  more  learned,  more  holy  than 
he  a  thousandfold ;  none  the  less  to  him  Seces- 
sion was — is  wrong,  wrong !  He  may  be  de- 
luded, may  be  insane,  but  to  him  that  night, 
reason  as  he  may,  Secession  is  to  him  as  clearly 

'  a  crime  as  ever. 

'  Only  a  little  time  ago,  he  remembers,  the 
whole  land,  North,  South,  East,  West,  thought 
and  felt  as  he  thinks  and  feels  to-night.     All 

I  were  unanimous  then,  at  least,  on  that  jioint — 
the  believers  in  Secession  being  regarded,  such 
a  little  while  ago,  and  by  the  whole  land,  with 

j  contempt  as  deluded,  with  horror  as  wicked 
men.  He  can  remember  how  that  sentiment 
ran  through  the  speeches  of  all  public  men,  the 
leading  articles  of  all  editors,  the  sermons  of  all 
preachers,  the  platform  addresses  on  all  anni- 
versaries, the  very  school  readers  and  hymns  for 
Sabbath-school  celebrations,  the  entire  country 
over.  And  to-night,  like  a  man  in  full  health 
suddenly  drugged  into  a  hideous  dream,  he  finds 
himself,  as  it  were,  alone  in  this  same  senti- 
ment, all  the  world  changed  as  in  an  instant  to 
believe  with  all  their  soul  in  exactly  the  reverse. 
But  he  has  not  changed  with  it ;  he  almost  wish- 
es he  could  have  done  so ;  but  he  has  not,  and 
he  can  not  help  it.    It  was — it  is  a  great  crime ! 

I  Then  all  that  good  Mr.  Ellis  said  to  him  only 
yesterday  comes  into  his  mind.     There  is  no 

'  man  in  Somerville  with  whom  he  has  held  such 
sweet  and  intimate  communion,  for  years  now, 

j  as  with  Mr.  Ellis,  the  member  and  pillar  of  his 

'  church.  He  has  a  friendship  for  Guy  Brooks, 
but  the  lawyer  has  not  the  deep  and  devotional 
piety  of  Mr.  Ellis.  He  has  often  conversed,  and 
very  agreeably,  with  Guy  Brooks  on  church  mat- 
ters ;  but  he  has  never  conversed  with  him  as  he 

i  has  with  Mr.  Ellis,  deep  into  the  night,  there  by 
his  study  fire,  or  here  in  his  chamber,  upon  doc- 
trines precious  alike  to  them  both,  unveiling  to 


INSIDE.— A  CllKONICLE  OF  SICCESSION. 


79 


him  in  Christian  friendsliip,  the  closest  and  sweet- 
est of  all  oil  earth,  the  ileeja'st  oxperieiU'cs  of  his 
soul.  Ho  has  often  knelt  with  Guy  Brooks  in 
prayer  in  private ;  but  it  was  Mr.  Ellis  whose  de- 
votional spirit  rose  with  his  own  in  af^onies  of 
entreaty,  in  the  very  wrestlinjjs  of  living  faiili 
for  the  common  cause  of  their  hearts.  Was 
there  a  proof  of  atVoetion  ami  esteem  for  him 
wiiich  Mr.  Ellis  had  not  given?  Blameless  in 
life,  prudent  in  speech,  sincere  in  soul,  liberal 
of  his  means  to  the  last  cent,  above  all  devoted- 
ly pious,  Mr.  Ellis  had  been  the  man  of  all  men 
he  had  ever  known  to  whom  he  had  clung  closest. 

"  You  know  I  was  a  Union  man  to  the  very 
last,"  his  friend  had  said  to  him  only  yesterday. 
"We  agreed  perfectly  in  sentiment  on  that 
point.  But  the  case  is  altoKciher  ehanpod  now. 
We  are  both  Southern  men  ;  have  and  desiro 
to  have  no  country  but  the  South.  Well,  the 
South  has  established  itself  as  a  sejiarate  nation 
from  the  North.  Wc  both  ojiposed  the  step,  but 
it  has  been  taken,  and  we  are  not  responsible 
for  it.  In  the  providence  of  God  the  Confed- 
eracy being  a  nation,  and  we  the  citizens  tliere- 
of,  our  duty  is  clear.  Yon  know  the  maxim : 
'My  Country,  may  she  ever  be  right;  but  my 
Country,  right  or  wrong  !'" 

And  here  Mr.  Arthur  had  cried  out  apainst 
this  maxim,  but  all  the  argument  only  left  them 
where  they  were  before. 

"  When  the  North  actually  declared  war  upon 
us" — Mr.  Ellis  continued,  at  last — "  war  upon 
us,  think  of  that !  Actual  ivar,  simj)ly  for  de- 
siring a  peaceful  separation  from  them,  from 
that  time  my  feelings  have  undergone  a  com- 
plete change.  I  am  glad  we  did  .separate  from 
a  people  capable  of  taking  such  a  step — such  a 
wicked,  diabolical  step!  Henceforth  I  have  no 
wish  but  for  the  success  of  our  arms,  and  for  the 
defeat,  destruction  if  need  be,  of  the  Northern 
Government.  Y'ou  have  not  a  warmer  friend  in 
the  world  than  I  am,"  adds  good  Mr.  Ellis,  tak- 
ing his  pastor  by  the  hand,  the  tears  standing  in 
his  eyes  as  he  speaks;  "from  my  soul  I  admire 
and  love  you — am  your  sincere  friend.  Don't 
persist  in  your  course — don't,  I  entreat  you,  for 
the  sake  of  our  friendship,  for  the  sake  of  Christ's 
cause — " 

If  Edward  Arthur  could  only  have  got  his 
friend  then  and  there  to  have  united  with  him 
in  prayer,  first  for  wisdom,  and  then  have  dis- 
cussed together  the  one  thing  at  the  core  and 
centre  of  it  all — Slavery.  But  he  dared  not  do 
it.  An  Abolitionist .'  Horror.  Why  Mr.  Ellis 
would  have — what  would  he  not  have  said  and 
done? 

As  if,  deep  down  under  all,  Mr.  Ellis,  and  ev- 
ery other  Christian  at  the  South  was  not  think- 
ing, in  various  stages  of  advance,  exactly  the 
same  thoughts ! 

Yet  it  was  strange,  too.  Long  after  war  had 
been  begun  Mr.  Ellis  had  Httle  to  say  ui)on  the 


subject.  W^eek  after  week  had  the  pastor,  Guy 
Brooks,  Mr.  Eergusoii,  and  Mr.  Ellis,  besides 
other  chureh-members,  met  for  prayer.  On  ev- 
ery one  of  these  occasions  Mr.  Ellis  had  led  iu 
prayer,  had  prayed  for  ])eaee,  had  prayed  that 
God's  will  miglit  be  done,  but  had  never  once 
prayed  distinctly  for  the  Confederacy,  nor  for 
the  success  of  its  arms  and  the  defeat  of  its  foes. 
As  the  months  rolled  on,  Mr.  Arthur,  standing 
still  himself,  could  perceive  a  change  in  his 
friend.  At  first  he  would  have  scouted,  and 
did  scout,  with  horror  the  idea  of  his  son  Henry 
going  to  the  war.  "  It  was  like  causing  Henry 
to  pass  through  the  fire  to  Mohx-h,"  were  his 
own  words  often  repeated  to  his  pastor.  But,  at 
last,  Henry  did  go.  Henceforth  Mr.  Ellis  was 
indeed  changed.  Now  he  began  to  pray  earnest- 
ly for  the  Confederacy,  to  give  freely  \\\>  to  and 
beyond  his  means  to  all  the  demands  upon  him 
toward  it ;  to  feast  uj)()n  the  papers,  believing 
all  they  said  of  success  to  the  Confederate  arms ; 
to  seek  and  join  eagerly  in  all  meetings  and 
street  conversations ;  in  a  word,  to  outdo  many 
even  of  the  most  violent  "  from-the-start  Seces- 
sionists." 

As  tlic  young  minister  knelt  there  in  his  room, 
with  the  bells  pealing  in  his  ears,  he  well  knew 
that  no  man  in  Somerville  was  rejoicing  more 
than  Mr.  Ellis  in  the  news.  "We  must  ceage 
looking  back,  cease  reasoning  upon  the  matter," 
Mr.  Ellis  had  told  him  yesterday,  "  and  must 
give  way  now  to  our  feelings,  to  our  natural  and 
hearty  feelings,  as  citizens  of  a  nation  invaded 
by  a  brutal  foe." 

"  But  was  not  Secession  a  wrong  thing?"  Mr. 
Arthui-  had  asked. 

"Well,  yes,  in  a  certain  sense  it  was,"  Mr. 
Ellis  had  replied. 

"And  is  not  this  a  war,  on  the  part  of  the 
North,  but  an  energetic  attempt  to  put  down  a 
wrong  thing  ?  Is  it  not,  this  war,  a  desperate 
attemi)t  on  the  part  of  the  South  to  establish 
this  wrong  thing  ?  Can  you  hope  for  the  bless- 
ing of  God,  Mr.  Ellis,  on  any  effort  to  establish 
any  wrong  ?  Dare  you  deliberately  pray  to 
God  to  give  success  to  the  wrong?"  said  the  min- 
ister. 

"All  this  is  mere  morbid  fiincy,  Mr.  Arthur. 
Fight?  yes,  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man  in  the 
South  to  fight.  I  have  sent  Henry  !  I  tell  you, 
Sir,"  continued  Mr.  Ellis,  a  fire  gleaming  in  his 
eye  which  no  man  had  ever  seen  there  a  faw 
months  ngone,  "  if  there  are  any  among  us  who 
are  unwilling  to  go  and  fight  for  the  Confud- 
eracy  I  would  have  them  torn  by  force  from 
their  homes  and  made  to  go  ;  if  they  are  of  no 
other  use  on  the  battle-field  they  will  m.iike 
breast-works  there  for  those  who  do  love  their 
country." 

Mr.  Arthur  had  never  been  calmer  in  his  life 
than  when  he  replied,  rising  as  he  spoke  :  "  Mr. 
Ellis,  wc  once  thought  and  felt  exactly  alike  in 


80 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


this  matter.  You  have  left  me.  I  stand  this 
hour  exactly  where  I  have  always  stood — must 
always  stand.  Wronj;  is  of  the  Devil.  Right 
is  of  God.  A  Wrong  is  eternally  a  Wrong,  and 
a  Right  is  eternally  a  Riglit.  He  who  fights 
for  the  Wrong  and  against  the  Riglit  fights  for 
the  Devil  and  against  his  God.  May  my  right 
arm  wither  from  its  socket  before  I  strike  a  blow 
for  tlie  one  and  against  the  other!" 

Only  Secession  the  Wrong?  No  vague,  unde- 
fined, instinctive  apj)rehension  of  a  deeper,  more 
desperately  wrong  thing  than  that,  under  that, 
out  of  which,  as  from  a  giant  and  deadly  root, 
Secession  iiad  naturally  sjirung? 

Yes,  Edward  Arthur — the  bells  pealing  in  his 
ears — went  over  the  whole  subject  which  he  had 
gone  over  and  over  and  over  again  so  often  dur- 
ing the  weary  months  past.  Has  not  the  South 
passed  into  the  iiands  of  the  very  worst  and  most 
desperate  men  in  it?  he  asked  himself.  Many 
a  Mr.  Ellis  drawn  into  it  now ;  perhaps  many  a 
better  man  than  I  am  deluded  into  it  from  the 
outset — but  that  its  leaders  are  men  who  occu- 
pied, two  years  ago,  a  position  in  the  esteem  of 
the  country  the  reverse  of  that  to  which  they 
have  now  risen  who  can  deny  ?  And,  suppose 
Secession  successful,  what  is  that  but  the  certain 
crumbling  apart,  both  at  the  North  and  at  the 
South,  of  States  held  together  by  so  fragile  a 
tie?  Will  not  Secession  be  ever  before  the 
mind  as  the  easy  remedy  for  any  dissension 
among  States?  And  what  is  my  country,  my 
nation,  then?  What  permanency  in  such  a 
Confederacy  toward  nations  abroad?  What 
permanency  in  such  a  loosely-bound  nation  for 
the  building  of  railways — the  founding  of  great 
institutions?  What  hope  for  the  peaceful  spread 
of  civilization  and  the  Gospel  in  a  region  perjiet- 
ually  in  danger,  at  least,  of  crumbling  to  frag- 
ments ?  Shall  I  desire  and  pray  that  the  South 
may  succeed  in  this  effort  to  make  itself  another 
South  America  of  wrangling  and  warring  prov- 
inces? 

And  suppose  the  Confederacy  successful  as 
against  the  North — does  not  the  one  existing 
cause — Slavery — still  exist  ?  With  such  a  line 
of  frontier,  with  such  hostility  to  Slavery  North, 
with  such  jealousies  and  rivalries,  could  a  peace 
between  two  such  nations  last  six  months  ?  That, 
Slavery  !  Old,  and  stale,  and  hackneyed  reason- 
ings these,  now;  but  to  Edward  Arthur  that 
night  they  were  living  things  with  which  he 
wrestled  as  for  his  life ! 

It  is  as  one  exhausted  with  long  conflict  that, 
on  this  afternoon  after  the  night  of  bells,  Ed- 
ward Arthur  sees  Mr.  Neely  enter  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Bowles,  on  a  little  visit  to  the  mother,  and 
especially  to  the  daughter. 

Just  a  word  or  two  in  regard  to  Mr.  Neely 
while  he  waits  on  the  front  porch  for  Charles  to 
answer  his  knock.  A  tall  man  is  Mr.  Neely, 
with  fair  hair  and  florid  face.     When  he  first 


came  South  Mr.  Neely  had  always  replied, 
"Kentucky,"  when  asked  where  he  was  from. 
Because  having  made  an  extensive  tour  of  that 
State  before  settling  in  Somerville,  he  was  from 
Kentucky.  But  his  fair  and  rosy  face  was  against 
him  ;  he  had  always  to  acknowledge,  at  last,  that 
shameful  and  ))aiiiful  fact  of  having  been  origin- 
ally from  New  Hampshire  ;  in  fact,  hard  to  say, 
'■'born  there."  If  Mr.  Neely's  body  was  in  j)er- 
petual  motion — hands,  eyes,  feet,  tongue — it  was 
only  because  it  was  an  instrument  thorouglily 
adapted  to  his  active  and  restless  mind. 

One  definite  purpose  Mr.  Neely  had  in  life — 
to  succeed.  That  is,  to  obtain  as  much  position 
and  property  as  he  could,  in  which  he  is  very  far 
from  being  singular.  Starting  from  New  En- 
gland with  just  one  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  a 
good  suit  of  clothes,  an  old-fashioned  watch, 
once  belonging  to  his  father  and  his  father's 
father,  a  pleasant  person,  a  ready  wit,  he  had 
gone  into  the  Book  Agency  Business  because  it 
was  the  first  thing  that  turned  up.  But  it  had 
occurred  to  him  as  a  thing  still  better  to  study 
Law,  and  now  he  is  teaching  in  Somenille  as  a 
means  of  support — glorious  Daniel  Webster  be- 
fore him  in  that — while  he  masters  enough  legal 
knowledge  to  obtain  a  license.  Mr.  Neely  is  not 
an  unprincipled  man ;  Mr.  Neely  would  not  do 
a  dishonest  deed  for  the  world — an  undoubted- 
ly, undeniably  dishonest  deed,  you  know — but 
Mr.  Neely,  all  this  apart,  is  resolved  to  suc- 
ceed. 

Now  it  is  not  in  New  Hampshire  that  Mr. 
Neely  is  expecting  to  succeed,  but  in  Somerville 
and  the  South.  Therefore  Mr.  Neely  must  adapt 
himself  to  Somerville.  Point  out  to  him  that 
"  Hadn't  oughtcr"  grates  upon  the  ears  of  Som- 
erville, and  never  again  does  that  expression 
pass  his  lips.  It  is  part  of  his  creed  that  though 
there  are  such  quadrupeds  as  cows,  the  universe 
owns  nothing  answering  to  the  name  of  keows. 
Well  does  Mr.  Neely  know  that  the  calling  any 
one  to  an  account  for  a  thing  is  vastly  better  ex- 
pressed by  the  phrase  "calling  him  to  dew  for  it," 
but  he  would  prefer  death  to  such  language.  Mr. 
Neely  often  speaks  of  "  throwing  a  rock,"  but  of 
such  athingasa"stone"hehas  never  read, except 
in  the  Bible.  Cheerfully  does  Mr.  Neely  inter- 
change "evening"  for  "night,"  and  as  freely  does 
he  give  up  "  chores"'  for  '  'jobs ;"  and  so  of  all  forms 
of  speech  unadapted  to  his  new  meridian.  There 
now  lingers  not  even  the  knowledge  of  one  in 
his  mind.  It  is  rather  the  custom  of  Somerville 
to  substitute  negro  labor  for  one's  own  labor,  and 
to  no  man  there  has  it  become  so  indispensable 
as  to  Mr.  Neely.  No  man  denies  the  piety  of 
Mr.  Neely ;  but  it  was  after  ascertaining  which  of 
the  churches  in  Somervnlle  had  the  largest  at- 
tendance that  he  united  himself  to  j  ust  that  church 
— and  of  that  church's  choir  Mr.  Neely  is  a  prom- 
inent member ;  but  as  to  introducing,  or  even 
alluding  to  any  of  the  tunes  so  familiar  in  New 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


81 


Hampshire  and  in  the  old  church  there,  and  so 
unknown  in  Sonierville — why,  Mr.  Neely  has 
long  since  cesiscd  even  to  whistle  them  to  liini- 
selt;  on  princiide.  "Identify  myself  with  tlie 
South"  is  Mr.  Neely's  one,  plain  jiatii ;  and  the 
only  question  on  any  and  every  point  with  him, 
great  and  small,  is  simply,  which  is  the  North- 
ern, which  the  Southern  side  of  this  matter? 
and  nnignctizcd  by  this,  Mr.  Neely  repels  the 
Northern  and  clings  to  the  Southern  Pole  of  the 
question  by  a  second  nature  whicli  has  become  an 
instinct. 

In  a  word,  Somerville  contains  many  hundred 
Southern-born  individuals,  but  Mr.  Neely  is  the 
most  intensely  Soutliern  j^Kirson  there.  That  is, 
in  comparison  with  the  born  Southerners,  we 
mean.  There  are  a.  jilcnty  of  other  men  there 
— Lamum,  Barker,  and  the  rest — born  at  the 
North,  as  Southern  as  he.  Let  us  pause  to  in- 
scribe this  fact  on  the  page  of  the  times  for  fu- 
ture analysis  and  inference  by  whosoever  chooses 
to  undertake  the  task.  Among  the  people,  in 
the  army,  in  political  office,  in  the  pulpit,  on  the 
stump,  as  editors — in  all  things  at  the  South, 
Northern-born  men  are  the  most  intensely  South- 
em  Southerners  there.  Pugnacious  and  self- 
conceited  old  Dr.  Johnson  once  dreamed  that 
he  had  an  argument  with  some  one  in  which  he 
was  defeated.  We  all  remember  how  he  con- 
soled himself  on  awaking  in  this  defeated  con- 
dition:  "At  least.  Sir,  it  was  I  myself,  at  last, 
who  furnished  my  imaginary  opponent  with  all 
the  arguments  with  which  he  defeated  me !" 
The  North  may  flatter  itself  or  bewail  itself  on 
the  fact  as  it  please,  but,  in  a  goodly  measure, 
the  desperation  of  Southern  resistance  was  owing 
to  muskets  and  pens  in  Northern  hands  under 
the  flag  of  the  Confederacy,  New  England  wit 
and  New  England  resolve  where  raged  the  bat- 
tle fiercest  in  council  or  in  field. 

"I  was  born  in  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
Sir,"  Dr.  Peel  had  one  day  replied  to  I\Ir.  Nee- 
ly. Dr.  Peel  was  a  dark,  superb-looking  man, 
almost  ducal  in  dress  and  bearing,  and  the  words 
were  spoken  with  his  black  eye  full  upon  Mr. 
Neely,  and  in  tones,  to  ^Ir.  Neely's  ear,  so  dis- 
tinct and  regal !  "  I  am  a  prince  of  the  blood, 
Sir,"  would  scarce  have  sounded  nobler.  Ah, 
how  mean  New  Hampshire,  and  how  plebeian 
Mr.  Neely  to  himself  in  comparison  ! 

By  no  one  was  Mrs.  Bowles  congratulated, 
that  day  after  the  bells,  in  her  parlor,  more  cord- 
ially than  by  Mr.  Neely.  No  one  had  a  bright- 
er smile  or  a  more  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand  on 
the  occasion.  If  there  was  any  defect  in  Mr. 
Neely  it  was  that  he  was  too  glad,  too  fervent. 
But  this  one  thing,  brought  with  him  from  his 
bracing  mountains,  Mr.  Neely  could  not  un- 
learn ;  this  one  Southern  thing  he  had  not  yet 
learned — to  be  still.  Not  that  Southerners  are 
not  demonstrative  enough,  but  then  they  are 
quiet  withal ;  and  this  Mr.  Neely  could  not  be. 


"A  most  wonderful  victon,-,  Madam,"  said 
Mr.  Neely,  rubbing  his  hands;  "the  compk'te 
rout  of  the  Yankees.  Yuu  will  observe  in  the 
dispatch,  Beauregard  remarked  on  the  spot  that 
it  was  a  more  complete  thing  than  Manassas 
even.     I  rejoice  sincerely  in  it." 

And  no  doubt  Mr.  Neely  did.  He  opened 
his  school  with  prayer  every  morning,  and  nev-' 
er  had  he  failed  since  Secession  to  insert  a  peti- 
tion therein  for  the  victory  of  the  South,  and  for 
"the  speedy  and  total  defeat  of  our  cruel  and 
iin])lacable  foes."  Of  late  he  had  got  into  the 
custom  of  making  little  addresses  to  his  school, 
descriptive  of  the  wickedness  of  the  North  and 
of  the  glorious  and  successful  revolution  in  which 
the  South  was  embarked.  As  to  giving  the 
boys  a  holiday  after  the  good  news  of  last  night, 
he  would  certainly  have  done  that  if  the  boys 
had  only  come  to  school  that  morning,  which, 
however,  they  did  not  do,  having  voted  them- 
selves a  holiday  already,  and  altogether  ine- 
spective  of  Mr.  Neely — the  fact  being  that  Mr. 
Neely  was  the  most  thoroughly  governed  indi- 
vidual in  the  school.  "Old  Neely?"  any  boy 
would  indignantly  exclaim  on  being  remonstra- 
ted with  on  some  special  act  of  insubordination 
to  his  teacher,  "why,  old  Neely  is  a  Yankee!'' 

Yes,  it  was  hard,  very  hard !  No  man  could 
have  been  an  earlier  Secessionist  or  a  more  con- 
sistent Secessionist  than  the  schoolmaster.  His 
whole  language  had  from  the  outset  been  of  un- 
wavering and  unmitigated  hostility  to  the  North. 
Other  men  would  venture  to  make  exceptions  in 
favor  of  "  some,  at  least,  it  is  to  be  hoped — some, 
however  few,"  at  the  North;  Mr.  Neely  could 
not  in  conscience  make  any  such  exceptions. 
In  teaching  his  boys  History  he  constantly  kept 
up  the  striking  parallel  in  their  minds  between 
the  Revolution  of  '7G  and  that  in  which  the 
South  was  now  engaged.  He  required  com- 
positions from  every  pupil  old  enough  to  write 
them  upon  the  topic  of  the  day,  and  apjdauded 
most  highly  those  in  which  the  Y'ankees  were 
most  terribly  demolished.  "Nero  was  the  Ty- 
rant of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  Lincoln  is  the 
Tyrant  of  America,"  "Only  Powder  and  Steel 
can  cure  the  North  of  its  Phrensy,"  "Jefferson 
Davis  is  the  Washington  of  our  New  Nation," 
and  the  like,  were  the  copies  set  by  him  for  his 
pupils.  More  than  once  highly  patriotic  songs 
had  appeared  in  the  Somerville  Star  signed  N., 
which  Mr.  Neely  had  never  denied  as  being  from 
his  pen.  In  fine,  if  Mr.  Neely  left  any  thing 
undone  in  proof  of  his  sincere  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  Secession  it  is  impossible  to  imagine 
what  that  thing  was.  When  he  arrived  in  Som- 
erville he  possessed  a  Daguerreotype  of  his  fa- 
ther. A  large  one  and  a  very  good  one  it  was, 
and  an  honest,  fatherly,  clear-countenanced  old 
patriarch  the  elder  Mr.  Neely  seemed  to  be  there- 
from. Shall  it  be  recorded  here  that  the  son 
deliberately  broke  to  atoms  and  stamped,  in  his 


82 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


own  words,  "  to  flinders"  beneath  his  heel  that 
likeness  in  the  first  fervors  of  the  war  ?  Shall  it 
be  added  that  of  this  he  afterward  boasted  with 
all  phrases  suitable  to  such  a  deed  ?  Artistical- 
ly considered  this  ought  not  to  be  mentioned,  on 
account  of  its  improbability,  yet  was  it  simple 
fact. 

And  yet?  True  as  it  is  of  the  teacher  it  is 
equally  so  of  all  other  Northern-born  Secession- 
ists— tiicy  never  were  thoroutjhly  trusted  and  be- 
lieved in  as  being  really  "sound." 

"It  isn't  nature,"  Mrs.  Juggins  was  continu- 
ally remarking  to  husband  and  visitors,  "for 
any  body  to  turn  so  agin  their  own  people.  You 
needn't  tell  me  what  good  Secessionists  that 
Lamum  an'  Neely  an'  the  rest  are,  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  bit  in  them  myself.  And  there's  Brother 
Barker, "  adds  Mrs.  Juggins,  after  a  long  pause, 
approaching  the  subject  with  reluctance.  "  Oh, 
I  know  how  well  and  how  much  he  talks.  But 
— somehow — yes.  Ah,  well,  don't  it  'pear  to 
you  Brother  Barker  is  too  feverish  like,  kind  o' 
over-het?"  and  Mrs.  Juggins  looks  you  anxious- 
ly and  inquiringly  in  the  eyes  as  she  knits. 

And  this  was  the  universal  feeling  whether  ex- 
pressed or  not.  The  more  violently  Southern 
Northern  men  were,  only  that  much  the  more 
did  people  murmur,  "Only  put  on;  you'll  see 
one  day  if  it  isn't !''  It  matters  not  how  violent 
and  consistent  in  his  course  Lamum,  for  in- 
stance, was ;  though  mortal  could  say  no  more 
against  tlic  North  and  for  the  South  than  he ; 
though  he  harped  perpetually  on  the  infamy  and 
the  merited  halter  of  "the  traitors  among  us," 
at  last  people  were  only  suspicious — "  Yankees 
all  of  them!" — to  the  greatest  degree.  Had 
any  one  of  them  been  detected  in  the  worst  prac- 
tices of  the  incendiary  and  Abolitionist,  one  uni- 
versal chorus  would  have  broken  forth,  "  A  Yan- 
kee!    I  always  knew  it!" 

Mrs.  Bowles  was  pleased  to  see  Mr.  Neely, 
however,  and  conversed  eagerly  with  him  on  the 
glorious  news — an  unconscious  condescension 
running  through  all  her  manner  as  of  a  South 
Carolina  lady  conversing  with  a  New  Englander 
— a  condescension  not  more  assumed  on  her  part 
than  taken  for  granted  on  his.  To  no  female 
born  and  living  at  the  North  would  or  could  Mr. 
Neely  have  been  so  obsequious,  so  deferential. 
It  is  an  unpleasant  thing  to  write,  but  it  is  a  fact. 
But  in  all  Mr.  Neely's  conversation,  though  he 
addressed  himself  mainly  to  Mrs.  Bowles,  it  was 
with  chief  reference  to  Miss  Alice  that  he  spoke. 
The  truth  is,  the  man  really  admired  and  loved 
the  beautiful  and  queenly  girl  as  he  never  loved 
or  admy-ed  a  woman  before.  There  was  a  maj- 
esty in  her  erect  bearing,  a  dignity  inherited 
from  her  stately  old  father  the  Major,  in  her  re- 
ser\'e,  a  serene  soul  in  her  full  and  steady  eye, 
which  was  more  to  him  even  than  her  glowing 
cheek  and  coral  lip.  It  is  a  shame  to  hint  such 
a  thing  in  America,  but  it  was  the  old  story  of 


plebeian  and  aristocrat,  squire  of  low  degree 
aspiring  to  the  hand  of  noble  dame.  Marrying 
a  South  Carolinian !  It  was  next  to  being  born 
there ! 

"  And  it  must  be  a  great  gratification  to  you. 
Miss  Alice,"  he  said,  at  last,  "that  the  flag  you 
presented  that  day  to  the  regiment  was  in  the 
figiit."  And  Mr.  Neely  went  back  in  memorj' 
to  the  day  of  its  presentation,  Alice  standing  on 
the  platform  with  the  colors  in  her  hand,  saying 
her  few  thrilling  words  more  with  eye  and  cheek 
and  attitude  than  with  tongue,  a  goddess  to  him 
from  that  moment  henceforth  and  forever.  For 
the  moment  Alice  had  endeavored  to  believe  her- 
self then  and  there  a  sort  of  "heroine  of  '7G' 
over  again.  But,  under  all  this  cry  of  "Our 
Country!"  "Our  Glorious  Revolution!"  "Our 
gallant  Army!"  "Our  despicable  foes!"  there 
steadily  ran  this  fact,  we  are  fighting  for  our 
negroes.  Ugly  thought,  we  are  fighting  for  our 
— slavery !  No,  not  a  thoxtght,  an  unpleasant 
but  undefined  consciousness  thereof. 

"Yes,"  said  Alice;  "but  I  am  more  anxious 
to  know  the  fate  of  the  men  that  received  it,  just 
now,  than  any  thing  else."  Whereupon  Mr. 
Neely  skillfully  turned  the  conversation  upon 
their  bravery,  mingled  with  reasonings  to  show 
why  he  did  not  think,  at  least  sincerely  hoped, 
they  had  not  suftered  much  in  the  contest. 
"And  you  have  not  heard,  you  tell  me,  from 
your  son,  Captain  Rutledge  Bowles?"  he  said  at 
last,  turning  to  Mrs.  Bowles. 

"Only  that  he  is  at  the  head  of  his  company 
in  Virginia,"  said  Mrs.  Bowles. 

"I  suppose  we  shall  be  compelled  to  inflict 
another  Manassas  upon  them  there.  Perhaps 
one  more  defeat  of  the  kind  may  satisfy  them," 
said  Mr.  Neely. 

"Rutledge  Bowles  was  then  in  Charleston," 
said  Mrs. Bowles,  "in  obedience  to  orders.  He 
assures  me  in  his  last  letter  that  he  will  be  in  the 
next  battle,  orders  or  no  orders,  wherever  he 
thinks  it  likely  to  take  place.  I  regret  that  he 
and  many  of  the  youth  of  South  Carolina  can 
not  feel  as  satisfied  with  Mr.  Davis  and  his  ar- 
rangements as  could  be  wished.  It  is  a  little 
hard  that  South  Carolina  should  be  second  to 
Mississippi,  taking  the  lead  in  the  revolution  the 
way  my  native  State  did.  It  is  only  for  the  pres- 
ent, however." 

Thereupon  Mr.  Neely  entered  upon  a  glowing 
eulogy  of  South  Carolina,  adroitly  worded,  too, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  bell  rang  for  supper. 

"Really,  I  had  completely  forgotten  myself," 
he  said,  as  he  arose.  "Only  when  one  gets  to 
speaking  of  South  Carolina — " 

"Stay  to  supper  with  us,  Mr.  Neely,"  said 
Mrs.  Bowles,  with  a  warmer  manner  than  when 
he  first  came,  and  with  perhaps  somewhat  more 
of  hesitation  and  of  apology  for  possible  intrusion 
than  was  necessary,  Mr.  Neely  at  last  consented. 
"You  will  excuse  me,  Mr.  Arthur,"  said  Mrs. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIHONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


83 


Bowles,  when  the  family  were  seated  at  table, 
"but  you  are  really  looking  as  if  you  had  just 
risen  from  a  severe  illness."  It  was  a  fact;  the 
pale,  care-worn  face  of  Edward  Arthur  contrast- 
ed strongly  at  the  moment  with  the  rosy  and 
happy  countenance  of  Mr.  Necly  by  his  side. 

"  Yes,  Madam,  I  had  no  slecj)  last  nij^lit,"  was 
the  reply  of  that  gentleman  as  he  endeavored  to 
assume  a  more  cheerful  manner. 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  none  of  us  slept  last  night," 
said  the  schoolmaster.  "  Glorious  news !  Was 
it  not,  Mr.  Arthur?" 

Oh,  the  temptation,  the  pressing,  the  almost 
hourly  tcmi>tation  to  lying  those  days !  What 
is  the  use  of  talking  about  dissembling,  evading, 
getting  out  of  telling  the  truth,  and  all  that? 
Satan  is  Satan,  God  is  God,  a  lie  is  a  lie !  And 
the  lying,  downright  lying,  on  the  part  of  the 
Union  people  at  the  South — multitudes  of  them 
at  least — was  one  of  the  most  terrible  demorali- 
zations of  the  times.  If  ever  necessity,  the  fear 
of  consequences,  the  unparalleled  nature  of  the 
case,  justified  people  in  this,  of  course  they  were 
completely  justified.  But  can  any  thing  make 
a  wrong  to  be  a  right  ?  Does  God  ever  so  place 
man  that  he  must  sin  ?  Alice  was  cutting  cake 
at  the  moment,  but  how  keenly  she  was  ou  the 
alert  for  Mr.  Arthur's  reply,  though  she  raised 
not  her  eyes. 

"Has  any  confirmation  of  it  as  yet  arrived, 
Mr.  Neely?"  was  Mr.  Arthur's  calm  reply. 

"  Confirmation  ?  It  needs  no  confirmation  !" 
exclaimed  astonished  Mr.  Neely.  "The  victory 
is  one  we  already  knew  would  take  place  when- 
ever the  armies  joined.  The  only  question  was 
one  of  place  and  day." 

"You  must  pardon  me  if  I  seem  to  ca.st  a 
gloom  on  the  matter,  but  I  frankly  confess  that 
my  dominant  feeling  since  the  news  came  is  one 
of  sorrow,"  said  the  minister. 

"Sorrow,  Mr.  Arthur!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bowles  and  Mr.  Neely  in  the  same  breath. 

"At  the  awful  destruction  of  human  life,"  said 
the  minister,  and  Alice  breathed  again.  "You 
know  my  profession  has  habituated  me  to  look 
on  things  in  that  light.  Pardon  me;  but  to  think 
of  a  civil  war  in  our  country,  not  in  France  or 
Italy,  but  actually  in  America !  A  battle  on 
our  soil,  with  all  its  hideous  carnage !  I  say  no- 
thing about  souls  hurried  by  thousands,  unpre- 
pared many  of  them,  into  eternity.  Again,  par- 
don me,  but  you  must  blame  my  profession." 

And  thus  Mr.  Arthur  told  part  of  the  truth  ; 
but  did  he  tell  really  the  truth  in  telling  only  a 
part? 

But  not  for  nothing  had  Mr.  Neely  been  born 
in  New  England.  "  Why,  Mr.  Barker  is  of  your 
profession,  and  I  saw  him  last  night  listening  to 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts,  and  I  really  believe  he  was 
the  happiest  man  there!" 

Mr.  Neely  was  right.  Brother  Barker  was 
there,  and  was  as  happy,  to  say  the  least,  as 


any  man  on  the  ground.  So  happy,  that  in 
drinking  down  the  Colonel's  speech  he  had  no 
time  on  the  instant  even  to  object  mentally  to 
its  innumerable  oaths,  and  to  its  blood-thirsty 
atrocities.  Yes,  no  man  laugiied  louder,  or  ap- 
plauded every  sentiment  with  both  of  his  long 
liands  more  eagerly  than  he.  What  though  Se- 
cession had  arrested  at  once  the  operation  and 
income  of  every  Bible  Society,  Tract  Institution, 
Missionary  Cause  —  domestic  and  foreign  —  as 
well  as  every  other  Benevolent  Association  in  the 
land  ;  w  hat  though  it  was  pouring  over  the  land, 
through  the  prostrated  embankments  of  Law, 
Order,  Religion,  and  Society  such  a  torrent  of 
Profanity,  Sabbath  Desecration,  Intemperance, 
and  all  kindred  vices  as  the  most  gloomy-mind- 
ed had  never  dared  even  to  fear :  what  though 
ministers  were  starving  at  their  ministry,  or 
driven  from  it  into  other  pursuits,  churches 
were  being  split  into  fragments  and  dissolved, 
all  religious  worship  being  comparatively  aban- 
doned save  to  hear  political  sermons  and  procla- 
mation prayers;  members  of  churches  and  even 
ministers  backsliding  and  apL:^tatizing  bynudti- 
tudes;  what  though  the  minds  of  worldly  men 
were  being  hardened  a  thousandfold  more  in  ir- 
religion  ;  even  the  coming  generation  blasted  in 
advance  by  the  arrested  instruction,  and  the  inev- 
itable corruption,  mind  and  heart,  by  the  times, 
of  the  very  children.  What  though  the  cause 
dearest,  avowedly,  to  Mr.  Barker  of  all  on  earth 
— that  of  the  Gospel — was  perishing  beneath  the 
deadly  influences  of  war  in  the  land— civil  war 
— yet  was  Brother  Barker  the  loudest,  and  hap- 
piest, and  heartiest  among  all  beneath  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts's  eloquence  that  night. 

Ah,  if  Brother  Barker  had  been  the  only  min- 
ister of  the  sort !  It  was  indeed  the  hour  of  the 
Saviour's  crucifixion  afiesh.  Never  speak  of  the 
soldiers  gambling  at  his  feet,  spotted  with  his 
falling  blood,  nor  of  the  taunting  multitude,  nor 
of  the  darkening  sky  above  and  tlic  earth  quiv- 
ering beneath,  next  to  the  hiding  of  the  Father's 
face,  the  darkest,  bitterest  thing  was  that,  even 
of  Christ's  disciples  how  nearly  may  we  come  to 
reading :  "  They  all  forsook  him,  and  fled."  We 
speak  not  of  you  who  clung  all  the  closer  to  your 
Master,  with  separatedness  from  the  reigning 
spirit  of  the  world,  with  strong  crying  to  God 
during  all  that  hour  of  darkness.  You  who, 
heartily  with  the  North  then,  or  as  heartily  with 
the  South  then,  kept  most  heartily  of  all  to 
Christ — one  with  each  other  at  least  in  that — 
alas  that.  North  and  South,  your  number  seemed 
so  small  in  those  days  of  Satan's  hour,  and  the 
Power  of  Darkness ! 

"For  my  part  I  do  not  wonder  Mr.  Barker 
should  rejoice,"  said  Mr.  Neely,  after  having 
waited  in  vain  for  the  minister's  reply.  "With 
him,  I  believe  the  entire  North  to  ha-^-e  become 
thoroughly  infidel.  This  is  a  religious  war— a 
war  for  Scripture  doctrine  in  regard  to  Slaverj- 


84' 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


against  Abolitionism  and  all  the  other  infidel 
isms  of  the  North.  Mr.  B:irker  rejoices  in  the 
defeat  of  the  North  as  in  the  defeat  of  irreligion 
itself— so  do  I." 

"Mr.  Neely,"  said  Alice  at  this  juncture, 
"how  then  about  Enghuid  and  old  Scotland — 
all  Protestant  Europe?" 

"I  do  not  exactly  understand  your  question, 
Miss  Alice,"  said  Mr.  Neely,  intensely  on  the 
alert. 

"I  mean,  only  for  argument  sake,  you  know," 
said  Alice,  "does  Protestant  Eurojie  stand  on 
this  question  with  the  North  or  with  the  South  ?"" 

"Really,  I  am  not  sure,"  began  Mr.  Neely. 
But  he  saw  that  Alice  knew,  and  knew  that  he 
knew,  the  facts  of  the  case.  "  With  the  North, 
I  believe,"  he  addetl,  under  the  stress  of  her 
clear  and  steady  eye. 

"And  are  they  all  infidel?''  began  Alice. 

"I  tell  you  what  I  frankly  tliink ;  I  mean  I 
will  frankly  say  what  I  really  and  truly  believe, 
and  that  is,  that  almost  the  whole  Christian 
Church  is  becoming  infidel,  Jacobinical.  By 
Jacobinical  notions  I  mean  the  old  French  no- 
tions of  freedom  and  equality." 

"I  think  I  know  what  Jacobin  means,"  said 
Alice,  her  eyes  still  bent  with  inquiry  upon  him. 

"In  this  strife,  Miss  Alice,  between  Jacobin- 
ism, then,  and  Conservatism,  between  infidelity 
and  the  Gospel,  in  fact,  I  do  believe  that  there 
is  only  one  spot  on  the  globe  in  which  the  pure 
and  genuine  Gospel  lingers,  and  that  is  in  the 
South.  I  wish  to  flatter  no  one,"  added  Mr. 
Neely,  "but  of  all  the  South  I  do  believe  that 
piety,  the  purest  and  most  strictly  in  accordance 
with  the  Bible — Old  Testament  as  well  as  New 
— is  to  be  found  m  South  Carolina.  I  myself 
was  born  at  the  North,"  continued  Mr.  Neely, 
with  engaging  frankness;  "but,  if  one  may  say 
snch  a  thing,  I  would  give  millions  to  have  been 
born,  of  all  the  world,  in  South  Carolina." 

Yes,  Mr.  Neely  actually  said  just  that ! 

Mrs.  Bowles  cordially  approved  the  sentiment, 
and  assured  INIr.  Neely  how  highly  she  felt  flat- 
tered. Alice  never  raised  her  eyes  from  her 
plate. 

"  Therefore,"  said  Mr.  Neely,  after  some  fur- 
ther conversation,  "  if  I,  a  Northern  man,  rejoice 
so  in  the  success  of  Southern  arms,  I  am  sure 
you  must,  Mr.  Arthur." 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  not  to  rejoice  in  what- 
ever may  be  for  the  interest  and  real  welfare  and 
prosperity  of  the  South,  Mr.  Neely,"  replied  the 
other.  "I  have  every  inducement,  and  it  would 
be  unnatural  and  simply  impossible  that  I  should 
feel  otherwise." 

And  yet,  somehow,  his  reply  did  not  satisfy 
Mrs.  Bowles. 

"  I  am  perfectly  ignorant  of  military  matters," 
said  Alice  at  last,  "but  I  do  not  understand  what 
is  meant  when  the  dispatch  says  that  Beauregard 
fell  back  from  Shiloh  some  twenty  miles  to  Coi'- 


inth.     I  am  confident  of  the  gallantry  of  our 
soldiers;   but  wliy  fall  back?" 

Thereupon  Mr.  Neely  hastened  to  explain  mat- 
ters, showing  that  it  was  a  kind  of  military  strat- 
egy almost  invariably  adopted  by  victorious  ar- 
mies.    Alice  listened,  but  re])licd  not. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  mind  Alice,  Mr.  Neely," 
said  Mrs.  Bowles,  at  length.  "She  is  a  willful 
girl,  and  she  has  an  independent  habit  of  her 
own.  She  is  always  endeavoring  to  form  her 
own  conclusions  on  every  subject.  AVhen  she 
once  gets  a  notion  in  her  head  it  is  jmj)0.ssiblc 
to  reason  with  her.  She  reminds  me  more  and 
more  of  her  father.  Major  Bowles.  But,  Alice, 
do  let  us  have  some  music.  We  are  not  tired 
of  Dixie  yet — what  a  low  name  for  the  South  ! — 
or  the  Bonnie  Blue  Flag — any  thing." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  Yankee  Doodle,  or 
Hail  Columbia,  or  the  Star-spangled  Banner, 
Mr.  Neely  ?"  said  Alice,  looking  back  upon  that 
gentleman,  with  her  hands  upon  the  keys  of  the 
instrument. 


VTCT03V    AVI>  TIME. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

As  the  days  and  weeks  creep  by,  it  is  very 
slowly  but  very  certainly  ascertained  in  Somer- 
ville  that  the  great  and  glorious  victory  near 
Corinth  was  not,  at  last,  quite  so  complete  and 
final  a  rout  of  the  Yankees  as  was  at  first  be- 
lieved.     Somehow  they  have  not  fled  utterly 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


85 


Tiwiiy — the  miserable  remnant  left  of  them — but 
are  still  lingering,  in  a  siny;ular  manner,  near  or 
upon  tlie  very  battle-tield.  And  it  is  so  stranfje 
of  Heauregard,  that  he  has  not  long  ago  de- 
scended iii)on  them  again  from  Corinth  like  a 
thunder-bolt.  Why  does  he  not  make  ii  linish 
of  it  ?  What  is  he  staying  there  at  Coriutii  for  ? 
people  are  beginning  impatiently  to  ask. 

Like  many  another  military  iilol  of  the  time, 
before  him  and  after  him,  IJeauregard  is  slowly 
waning  in  j)ublic  estimation.  Good  Mr.  Ellis 
thanks  God  for  it.  "Tiie  career  of  any  one 
General,  like  Napoleon,  in  our  cause,"  he  avows, 
"  would  be  fatal  to  our  liberties.  We  wish  vic- 
tory to  be  won  for  us  in  such  a  way  that  to  no 
one  man,  but  to  the  whole  people,  and  to  God 
above  all,  the  glory  may  redound."  Certain  it 
is,  though  there  were  ever  so  many  just  on  the 
I)oint  of  becoming  the  Marions,  the  Washing- 
tons,  the  Napoleons  cf  the  war,  in  some  way  or 
other  each  just  missed  it  as  by  a  hair's-brcadth, 
but  missed  it  altogether. 

But  the  Yankees  are  even  approaching  Cor- 
inth. Lanuim  fills  the  Somervillc  Sta?-  with  amjile 
reasons  why.  Beauregard  is  hatching  some  great 
event  within  his  intrcnehments  at  Corinth,  and 
people  say  they  hope  so,  and  that  he  will  be 
quick  about  it ;  but  there  are  sinking  hearts  in 
every  bosom  in  Somerville.  However,  there  is 
Island  No.  10.  It  has  been  made  a  perfect 
Gibraltar.  It  is  fully  demonstrated  that  the  jias- 
sage  of  that  Island  in  the  Mississippi  River  by 
the  Federal  fleet  is  an  absolute  impossibility. 
Every  Number  of  the  Somerville  Star  exults  in 
"Island  Ten,"  and  in  the  laughable  notion  of 
the  Yankees  that  it  can  be  passed.  And  so  for 
weeks ;  slow  as  the  first  approach  of  an  epidemic 
the  rumor  gets  afloat  that  Island  Ten  has  been 
evacuated. 

It  was  not  Lamum's  fault !  To  do  him  strict 
justice,  never  from  the  first  had  any  item,  or  any 
particle  of  an  item,  appeared  in  his  columns  save 
of  good  news  for  the  Confederacy.  Many  a 
j)rophecy  did  he  make  of  great  and  glorious 
events ;  many  a  statement  did  he  continually  re- 
peat, on  the  best  authority,  of  something  or  oth- 
er highly  favorable  to  the  Confederacy.  Steadi- 
ly as  the  days  rolled  by  were  his  prophecies  un- 
fulfilled and  his  statements  disproved,  yet  you 
would  never  gather  a  syllable  to  that  effect  from 
his  jiajier.  And  no  reader  thereof  filed  away 
each  Number  of  the  Star  for  future  reference  as 
carefully,  or  with  such  deep  satisfaction,  as  did 
Mr.  Ferguson. 

Lamuin  had  remarked  :  "  If  our  gallant  heroes 
should  evacuate  Columbus,  it  will  be  only  to  make 
a  more  impregnable  stand  at  Island  Ten. "  Long 
after  Island  Ten  was  evacuated  Lamum  casu- 
ally remarks  in  his  columns:  "  If  our  able  and 
experienced  Generals  shoii/tl  evacuate  Island  Ten 
it  is  only  to  make  a  stand  at  Fort  Pillow,  but  a 
ebort  distance  below;"  nnd  thereupon  follows 


several  columns  of  such  minute  description  of 
Fort  Pillow — its  natural  advantages  and  its  arm- 
ament— tiiat  even  a  child  could  understand  that 
of  its  caj»turc  no  one  need  entertain  the  least 
fear.  "  Deluded  by  their  frenzied  leaders  thev 
dream  even" — Lamum  was  frecpuaitly  oljserving 
in  his  pa))er— "  of  capturing  New  Orleans!"  If 
Colonel  .Juggins  read  Lamum's  full  and  enthu- 
siastic descri])tion  of  Fort  Jackson  and  Fort  St. 
Philip,  and  the  other  Gii>raltars  by  wiiich  New- 
Orleans  was  secured  from  the  possiijility  of  being 
taken,  once,  he  read  it  a  dozen  times.  The  boom 
costing  millions  of  dollars  stretching  across  the 
river  below  the  forts  seems  to  him  a  waste  of 
money.  And  then,  tiic  gigantic  steamships  build- 
ing at  New  Orleans  to  dash  to  atoms  tiie  Federal 
vessels,  to  the  Colonel  they  had  assumed  a  grand- 
eur of  size  and  armament  under  the  hand  of 
energetic  Lamum  from  wliich  even  a  Brunei 
would  have  shrunk  aghast. 

"From  what  I  learn  of  that  splendid  ship  of 
war,"  good  ]\Ir.  Ellis  had  said  to  his  pastor, 
"even  if  the  Federals  should  pass  the  forts  be- 
low, of  which  I  have  no  fear,  that  vessel  alone, 
moored  as  it  is  in  front  of  the  city,  could  drive 
them  back." 

"But  the  papers  speak  of  it  as  not  yet  com- 
pleted," ventured  Mr.  Arthur. 

"One  side  is,  one  side  is,"  urged  Mr.  Ellis, 
warmly,  "  the  side  toward  the  river :  the  guns  on 
that  side  are  enough,  amply  enough." 

And  to  tills  his  friend  had  no  reply. 

Stealthily  and  awfully  as  the  deadly  blast  of 
which  the  Spaniards  say,  "It  kills  a  man  but 
does  not  put  out  a  taper,"  comes  the  news  that 
New  Orleans,  too,  is  captured  !  A  painful  thing 
it  is  to  state,  but  impercejitibly  to  themselves  men 
begin  to  distrust  Lamum  and  all  his  herd  !  Un- 
defined, unacknowledged  even  to  themselves, 
men  begin  to  reason  that,  if  the  editors  had  so 
often  deluded  them  upon  such  ])oints  as  Bowling 
Green,  Columbus,  Fort  Donelson,  Island  Ten, 
Fort  Pillow,  Roanoke,  Pulaski,  New  Orleans, 
Corinth,  might  they  not  have  been  unsafe  guides 
on  all  other  points  also  relating  to  Secession  and 
its  consequences?     Slowly,  slowly. 

"I  think  I  am  beginning  clearly  to  see  the 
hand  of  I'rovidence  in  lengthening  out  this 
matter,"  Guy  Brooks  remarked  one  night  to  his 
pastor  as  they  sat  together  in  the  study  of  the 
latter.  "You  know  my  brother,  Paul  Brooks; 
he  has  been  down  lately  from  his  s<ilitude  among 
the  Pines.  He  was  always  fond  of  solitude  and 
reflection — old  bachelor  that  he  is.  He  has  been 
giving  me  the  benefit  of  his  months  of  thought 
tip  there.  We  are,  he  thinks,  passing  through 
a  revolution  indeed,  not  only  a  political,  but  a 
social,  moral,  religious  revolution.  Were  it  only 
a  political  revolution,  the  establishment  of  the 
Confederacy,  or  the  putting  down  of  Secession 
say,  it  might  have  been  a  thing  begun  and  over 
in  a  few  months.     But  it  is  to  be,  he  thinks,  a 


B6 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


total  revolution  in  our  deepest  and  dearest  con- 
victions on  many  subjects  of  vastly  greater  im- 
portance than  the  mere  question  of  Secession 
and  Union.  Such  revolutions  of  thought,  be- 
lief, opinion,  feeling  can  not  be  effected  all  at 
once.  To  be  sincere  and  permanent,  people 
must  have  time  to  think ;  yes,  time,  jilenty  of  it, 
to  tkirtk." 

"  For  the  divisions  of  Reuben  there  were  great 
thoughts  of  heart,"  said  the  minister.  "  I  have 
been  much  struck  with  that  passage  of  Scripture 
myself  of  late.  Yes,  the  political  leaders  have 
full  space,  for  instance,  in  which  to  show  them- 
selves— " 

"From  the  tips  of  their  horns  to  the  points  of 
their  cloven  feet, "  interrupted  the  lawyer.  "And 
the  people  are  slowly  but  steadily  finding  them 
out :  it  is  a  lesson  being  very  slowly  learaed, 
but  once  learned  it  will  never  be  forgotten  on 
this  continent  forever." 

"  Unless  I  greatly  mistake  the  South  is  learn- 
ing other  lessons  also,"  said  the  minister,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "God  is  causing  us  to  read 
over  again,  beneath  the  blazing  torch  of  his 
providence,  other  matters  in  which  I  for  one 
was  as  thoroughly  settled  and  satisfied  as  any 
man  could  be.  We  will  not  speak  upon  that 
matter  just  now — let  us  wait  and  see." 

"We  will  see  one  day,"  the  lawyer  remarked, 
"  the  wonderful  dealing  of  the  Almighty  with  us 
in  permitting  this  war  to  linger  so  long.  Sup- 
pose Manassas  had  resulted  the  other  way,  the 
Confederacy  been  crushed  in  the  bud,  it  would 
have  been  a  mere  victory  of  force — notliing  else. 
There  would  have  been  nothing  of  a  radical  cure 
of  the  evil,  nothing  safe  and  permanent  after- 
ward. I  tell  you.  Sir,"  continued  he,  rising  to 
his  feet,  and  leaning  his  burly  form  against  the 
mantle  as  if  the  idea  was  too  large  and  free  to  be 
expressed  save  upon  his  feet,  "especially  we  here, 
at  the  South,  are  slowly,  steadily  coming  toward 
convictions,  conclusions  which  shall  be  those  of 
our  own  minds  and  hearts.  The  bayonets  are 
^  holding  the  question  open  only  till  we  have  had 
time  to  think  the  whole  matter  to  an  end.  As 
firmly  as  I  believe  in  my  own  existence,  I  do  be- 
lieve that  this  whole  continent  is  steadily  coming 
to  such  a  oneness  of  sentiment  as  will  make  us 
such  a  Union — such  a  nation  as — " 

"The  old  Union  was  but  an  emblem  of  a 
scaffolding  toward,"  the  minister  added  for  him. 
"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Brooks,  Southerners  as  we  both 
are,  we  can  not  disguise  from  ourselves  the  fact 
that,  on  some  points,  we  of  the  South  lag  in  the 
march,  are  a  century  or  so  behind  the  sentiment, 
the  conviction,  the  Christianity  of  the  times.  I 
have  had  an  uneasy  conviction  of  the  kind  for 
years,  but  quieted  myself  with  the  knowledge 
of  its  being  the  providence  of  God,  his  peculiar 
dispensation  in  our  case.  And  it  is  only  God's 
providence  in  present  events  which  I  am  now 
waiting  to  understand.     For  one  I  have  no  no- 


tion of  fighting  against  God.  Nor  have  I  any 
intention  of  being  upon  the  obsolete  side,  the 
waning  side  of  a  great  question.  If  you  glance 
your  eye  over  the  history  of  the  world  you  will 
notice  that  there  are  certain  periods  of  time 
when  you  can  run,  as  it  were,  a  pencil  line  be- 
tween where  one  era  ends  and  a  new  and  better 
era  begins.  And  tliere  always  is  a  party  for  the 
old  era  fighting  blindly  and  desperately  for  it ! 
God  helping  me,  I  belong  not  to  the  old,  worn- 
out  era  which  the  world  is  sloughing  off,  but  to 
that  era  which  is  better,  which  is  sure  to  succeed, 
which  is  that  much  nearer  the  Christ  that  is  to 
come.  My  happening  to  be  born  in  the  Sand- 
wich Islands  would  have  been  poor  excuse  for 
me,  therefore,  to  have  fought  against  civiliza- 
tion and  Christianity  when  they  "had  actually 
landed  from  God  on  its  shores!" 

And  it  was  well  for  Edward  Arthur,  and  for 
the  many  like  him  scattered  throughout  the 
South,  that  he  and  they  had  a  belief  in  those 
days  clear  enough,  strong  enough,  inspiring 
enough,  to  bear  them  up  through  poverty,  and 
the  alienation  of  their  dearest  friends,  and  the 
hatred  and  insult  of  innumerable  enemies,  and 
death  always  threatened,  in  some  cases  actually 
inflicted  ;  a  belief,  thank  God,  which  grew  clear- 
er, stronger,  more  inspiring,  as  the  darkness  and 
the  peril  became  more  dense.  Easy  enough  it 
was  for  you.  Sir,  living  outside  the  South  during 
those  days,  to  possess  convictions  clear  and  right 
upon  the  great  question.  You  heard  nothing 
else  all  day  among  your  friends.  You  read  no- 
thing else  in  your  papers,  pamphlets,  books. 
You  had  the  one  conviction  poured  upon  you 
from  the  platform  with  all  force  of  argument 
and  eloquence.  You  had  it  urged  upon  you  in 
every  engraving  that  met  your  eye,  flashed  upon 
you  in  every  transparency,  waved  before  you  in 
ever}'  flag,  thundered  upon  you  in  cannon  ex- 
ulting over  victory,  and  in  the  infinite  hurrahs 
of  the  people  !  Little  merit  iii  your  going  with 
the  right — how  easy  it  was  to  you  ! — when  you 
were  in  the  centre  of  a  great  torrent  pouring  ir- 
resistibly onward. 

But  look  at  this  man,  Edward  Arthur,  one 
case  in  multitudes  at  the  South  during  those 
long  and  dark  months.  From  the  first  hour  of 
that  suicidal  Secession  he  received  no  line  of 
correspondence  from  any  one  outside  the  South, 
nor  any  during  the  first  two  years  of  the  war, 
at  least,  from  a  correspondent  within  the  South, 
save  in  enthusiastic  support  of  Secession.  Such 
of  his  correspondents  as  shared  his  convictions 
were  prudently  silent,  well  aware  that  the  seal 
of  a  letter  was  no  bond  whatever  against  the 
reading  of  the  letter  by  dozens  before  it  could 
reach  the  owner's  eye  ;  at  the  utmost  an  innuen- 
do, a  carefully-veiled  sarcasm,  a  word  here  and 
a  phrase  there,  capable  of  being  understood  only 
bv  the  one  to  whom  the  letter  w.as  addressed. 
From  that  hour,  during  the  same  length  of  time, 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


67 


no  Northern  or  European  paper,  paniplilct,  or 
book  met  his  eye — every  jprintetl  line  whieh  did 
meet  his  gaze  being  in  liirious  advoeaey  of  Se- 
cession. Except  as  their  arms  proved  it,  scarce 
a  liint  glininuTed  tlirouj^h  tlie  darkness  of  opin- 
ion and  sentiment  ontside  tlie  blockade.  IJy 
himself,  even  his  friends  entertaining  similar 
views,  contininfj  those  views  mainly  to  their 
own  bosoms,  often  speaking  and  acting  in  direct 
opposition  to  their  own  real  opinions ;  thinking, 
nlone  and  unaided,  by  himself  and  for  himself, 
he  arrived  at  those  oi)inions  to  which  he  held 
ns  to  his  life  itself,  as  to  more  than  his  life,  the 
grasp  ni)on  the  ojiinion  being  for  him  to  relax 
liis  hold  even  upon  life. 

And  it  was  better  as  it  was.  Only,  never  won- 
der at  the  clearness  and  energy  with  which 
Southern  men  hold  to  views  which  they  have 
thus  attained.  No  man  values  his  gains  so 
ranch  as  the  man  who  has  earned  them  witli 
sweat  and  toil :  the  belle  of  the  ball-room  holds 
not  to  her  pearls  with  the  convulsive  grasp  of 
the  diver  wlio  has  brought  them  np  from  the 
dei)ths  and  darkness  of  roaring  waters. 

"  Lamum  says,  in  his  last  Stca;  that  I  am  a 
traitor  to  my  native  soil,"  the  lawyer  said,  after 
a  long  pause.  "I  really  wonder  if  I  am,"  he 
continued  gravely,  weighing  the'  proposition  in 
his  mind  with  his  finger  behind  his  ear.  "What 
is  my  pay  for  being  a  traitor?  It  isn't  office. 
Months  ago  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  told  me  that 
any  thing  I  would  have  he  would  see  that  I  did 
have  if  I  said  so.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  but  not 
one,  not  a  single  one  of  the  leaders  in  Secession 
in  or  around  Somerville  but  are  this  hour  in  re- 
ceipt of  salary  in  some  form.  Roberts  is  a  Con- 
federate States  Senator ;  Lamum  has  the  print- 
ing of  the  Confederate  laws ;  Tim  Lamum,  Lam- 
nm's  nephew,  is  a  Commissary  ;  Colonel  Juggins 
has  a  contract  for  corn ;  Dr.  Peel  is  making 
thousands  by  his  contract  for  beef;  even  Cap- 
tain Simmons  is  clerk,  when  sober,  of  the  Con- 
federate Court ;  and  Bob  Withers  is  a  Tax  Col- 
lector; Joe  Staples  is  Receiver  of  Confiscated 
Property — not  a  man  of  them  but  has  a  fat  office, 
or,  if  in  the  army,  but  is  a  Colonel  or  a  Quarter- 
master. Bribe?  On  account  of  my  o])inions 
my  business  is  ruined  and  nothing  else  to  look 
to;  my  best  friends  will  hardly  speak  to  me.  I 
hold  to  my  original  opinions  npon  Secession 
against  every  thing  on  earth.  As  to  abandon- 
ing them — the  fact  is,"  added  the  lawyer,  "as 
Paul,  that  brother  of  mine,  says,  either  I  am  en- 
tirely and  hopelessly  deranged  or  the  Secession- 
ists are." 

It  is  weeks  ago  now  since  it  had  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Sorel,  knitting,  spinning,  weaving,  making 
starch,  soap,  candles,  hats,  cans,  shoes,  and  : 
every  tiling  else  at  her  place  near  Somerville, 
that  it  would  be  a  great  favor  to  her  if  Mr.  Ar-  I 
thnr  could  occupy  the  vacant  front-room  on  the 
left-h^nd  side  of  the  hall  in  her  house.     She  has  , 


nobody,  now  Frank  is  gone,  but  herself  and 
Rubby.  It  was  a  delicate  matter  to  iiring  about 
under  all  tlie  circumstances.  But  women  are 
the  best  diplomats  in  the  world.  Tallcvrands 
are  they  by  sex  ;  and  Mrs.  Sorel  had  her  pur- 
pose accomplished  and  Mr.  Arthur  safuly  at 
homo  in  her  front-room  almost  before  he  knew 
it  was  a  thing  in  view.  The  truth  is,  he  himself 
and  Mrs.  Bowles  felt  the  projiriety  of  the  step  as 
well  as  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  only  Mrs.  Sorel  could 
have  managed  it  so  quietly  and  jtleasantly. 
Robby  Sorel  is  a  sober  little  fellow,  fond  of  his 
home  and  his  book  and  his  quiet  spotts,  the 
very  image  of  his  mother;  it  will  be  a  jileasure 
to  Mr.  Arthur  to  direct  his  studies,  another  rea- 
son for  the  arrangement. 

The  propriety  of  the  step !  Only  you  who 
read  these  lines,  after  painful  experiences  of  your 
own,  can  understand  all  the  bitterness  of  mean- 
ing herein  im])lied.  Not  a  day  but  Edward  Ar- 
thur was  made  to  feel  and  see  it.  The  strong 
Secessionists  outside  of  his  church  had  long  since 
removed  all  doubt  from  his  mind  in  regard  to 
their  opinion  of  his  position.  Colonel  Ret  Rob- 
erts had  never  entered  his  church  in  his  life. 
That,  however,  of  course.  Gentlemen  of  his  stamp 
never  go  to  church.  Peojile  not  members  of  the 
church  never  had,  as  a  general  rule,  much  de- 
sire to  attend  church — now  they  have  none  at  all. 
If  some  preacher  who  is  also  Colonel  of  a  regi- 
ment is  to  preach,  or  if  Brother  Barker  is  to  give 
clear  Seri))ture  proof  of  God's  cordial  ajjproval 
of  Secession,  if  there  is  to  be  some  Sabbatical 
variation  of  the  one  strain  of  glory  to  the  South 
in  the  highest,  on  earth  war  to  the  knife,  and 
eternal  ill-will  to  the  Yankees,  men  go  to  church 
to  be  that  much  more  encouraged  in  a  cause  in 
which  they  arc  beginning  to  feel  more  and  more 
the  need  of  encouragement.  But  not  to  hear 
the  old  Gospel  ?  To  be  told  over  again  the  old, 
old  story  of  their  being  sinners  and  of  Christ 
being  a  Saviour?  No,  Sir!  heaven  pales  its  in- 
effectual glories  and  hell  its  fires  in  contrast  with 
the  lurid  flames  of  the  war. 

Where  professing  Christians  have  become  so 
apathetic  in  regard  to  religion  Mr.  Arthur  ex- 
pects nothing  of  the  rest  of  Somerville.  Yet  it 
touched  him  keenly  that  Sabbath  morning  when 
Mrs.  Roberts  made  such  a  point  of  meeting  him, 
when  he  visited  her  class  in  turn,  and  shook  him 
with  such  special  cordiality  by  the  hand.  He 
well  knew  what  her  eyes  worn  with  weeping 
me.int,  and  now  filling  again  with  tears  as  she 
turned  from  him  and  stooped  as  if  to  tie  again 
the  scarf  around  the  throat  of  her  little  boy, 
looking  np  with  bold  brow  and  splendid  eyes  so 
like  his  father's.  When  immediately  after  Sab- 
bath-school she  left  with  her  children,  not  wait- 
ing until  service,  her  pastor  knew  as  well  as  if 
she  had  told  him  of  the  letters  from  her  husband 
at  Richmond  requiring  her  never  again  to  hear 
her  pastor  preach  ;  knew  as  by  intuition  all  the 


88 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


oaths  and  abuse  against  him  with  which  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts  sustained  liis  own  spotless  reputa- 
tion of  patriotism.  He  had  forbidden  her  enter- 
ing even  the  church.  At  first  slie  resisted  so  far 
as  the  Sabbath-school  was  concerned ;  but  it 
was  too  painful,  better  stay  at  home  altogether. 
How  painful  to  her  ])astor  was  that  vacant  scat 
henceforth  only  you  who  occupied  a  like  situa- 
tion, and  there  are  many  of  you,  in  those  days 
can  tell ! 

And  with  Mrs.  Roberts  there  fell  away  many 
even  of  his  warmest  friends  in  days  of  old. 
"  Mr.  Arthur  was  a  good  man  ;  they  had  known 
him  too  many  years  to  doubt  that ;  but  now  that 
he  was  a  Union  man !"  Of  what  use  to  call 
upon  them  in  their  homes  ?  Only  political  dis- 
cussion, warm,  perhaps  heated.  And  so,  what 
was  left  him  but  to  pursue  the  even  tenor  of  his 
way? 

"Resign?  No,  Sir.  The  great  body  of  the 
church  are  content  that  you  should  continue 
preaching  to  tliem  the  Gospel  as  of  old,"  said 
Guy  Brooks,  whenever  he  consulted  him  upon 
the  subject.  "You  can  in  conscience  do  only 
what  you  are  doing.  Let  us  be  as  quiet  as  pos- 
sible ;  let  us  wait  and  hope."  And  most  punc- 
tually and  faithfully  did  Mr.  Brooks,  and  Mr.  Fer- 
guson,  and  the  many  like  them,  attend  at  sen'ice, 
listening  as  if  with  double  attention,  greeting 
him  on  every  meeting  with  triple  cordiality. 

"You  can  hardly  imagine  how  painful  it  is  to 
me,"  said  Mr.  Arthur  to  his  friend  the  lawyer, 
one  gloomy  evening  as  they  sat  together  in  the 
study  of  the  former.  "Men  whose  esteem  I 
hoped  I  had  secured  forever  pass  me  without 
speaking.  Even  many  who  do  deign  to  greet 
me  do  it  coldly  and  harshly.  Even  those  who  I 
know  do  fully  agree  with  me  in  my  opinions, 
and  who  would  not  enter  the  church  if  I  j)ur- 
sued  any  other  course,  seem  afraid  to  be  seen 
speaking  with  me  on  the  street." 

"And  have  not  a  syllable  to  say  in  your  de- 
fense when  you  are  cursed,  as  you  most  contin- 
ually and  fervently  are,  over  Somerville,"  added 
the  lawyer,  who,  in  his  own  despondency,  would 
have  been  a  friend  in  keeping  with  those  around 
Job  as  he  sat  on  his  dunghill. 

And  it  was  well  it  was  so.  Too  dependent  on 
others  for  his  happiness,  Edward  Arthur  was 
fast  learning  to  stand  firm  in  the  consciousness 
of  his  own  integrity — to  dispense  with  all  friend- 
ship besides  in  appreciating  and  enjoying,  as  he 
never  before  conceived  of  doing,  the  presence 
of  Him  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.  Pale 
and  thin  and  worn,  he  was  only  at  a  lesson  which 
was  to  last  him  his  life — the  lesson  itself  was  not 
to  last  forever,  but  its  results. 

"I  declare,"  said  the  minister,  after  a  pause, 
"the  opinion  that  I  am  a  traitor  to  my  soil  seems 
to  be  so  universal  an  opinion,  and  is  so  unceas- 
ingly expressed,  that  I  have  at  times  almost  a 
sense  of  shame  as  for  actual  guilt.     However, 


that  only  keeps  me  at  a  perpetual  reconsidera- 
tion of  my  original  views.  And,  alas  for  me  !" 
he  added,  with  a  sigh,  "those  views  are  only 
deepening  and  strengthening  every  hour." 

"  If  you  were  only  fixed  as  a  minister  my 
brother  Paul  lately  heard  of  it  would  suit  ex- 
actly. Paul  was  telling  me  of  it  when  he  was 
down  from  the  Pines.  It  is  a  minister  as  con- 
scientiously o])posed  to  Secession,"  continued  Guy 
Brooks,  "as  I  am  or  as  you  arc — oh,  decided, 
strong,  cast  iron  on  that  point.  But  he  is  an 
Episcopal  minister,  you  see.  His  bishop  has 
written  out  the  prayers  for  him,  and  strong  they 
are  for  Secession  as  language  can  make  them, 
for  the  blessing  of  God  ui)on  the  Confederate 
arms,  for  the  speedy  and  total  defeat  of  the  Fed- 
erals, and  all  that.  Twice  every  Sunday  that 
Union  minister  stands  solemnly  up  and  offers 
those  prayers.  Worse  tlian  that,  the  bishop  has 
lately  appointed  a  special  prayer-meeting,  with 
prayers  to  match,  to  be  held  two  or  three  times 
during  the  week,  for  the  success  of  the  Confed- 
erate armies." 

"And,  true  to  his  canonical  obligations,  he 
prays  them?"  asked  Mr.  Arthur.  "Singular 
position  for  a  worshiper  of  God  to  fill — deliber- 
ately, continually,  kneeling  before  the  Almighty, 
one  set  of  petitions  on  his  lips,  exactly  the  re- 
verse set  of  supplication  in  his —  Nevermind!" 
said  the  minister,  interruittiug  himself,  "it  is 
none  of  my  business." 

"But  it  keeps  all  so  straight  and  pleasant," 
reasoned  the  lawyer.  "  Every  now  and  then 
the  bishop  fills  his  pulpit  in  his  regular  visita- 
tion ;  and  he  always  preaches  a  sermon  full  and 
most  decided  for  the  Confederacy — Brother  Bark- 
er over  again,  only  in  lawn  and  with  manuscript. 
But  no  wonder ;  the  Bishop's  negroes  have  been 
running  away  dreadfully  of  late.  His  expenses 
for  dogs  alone  in  trailing — " 

"My  dear  Mr.  Brooks,"  interrupted  the  min- 
ister, "do  let  us  speak  of  something  else.  A 
milder,  more  pious,  more  sincere  man  than  this 
bishop  before  these  troubles  neither  you  nor  I 
ever  knew.  The  times  have  changed  him,  as 
they  have  changed  so  many  of  us.  There  was  a 
time  when  there  lived  not  a  minister  at  the 
South  who  dreamed  of  alluding  in  the  pulpit  to 
political  matters.  And  now  !  Would  Paul, 
would  Peter,  would  Heber,  Simeon  of  Oxford, 
j  Wesley,  Whitfield,  Nettleton,  Daniel  Baker  do 
it  were  they  now  alive?  Would  the  Saviour  do 
it  did  he  to-day — if  such  a  thing  can  be  imag- 
ined— walk  the  soil  of  North  or  South  ?  To  me 
the  side  the  minister  happens  to  be  on  is  a  mere 
nothing  in  comparison  ;  it  is  his  abandoning  the 
Gospel  that  is  his  deadly  sin,  whether  he  preach 
Secession  or  preach  the  Federal  Union.  I  feel 
to-day  as  if  I  had  somehow  become  suddenly 
obsolete — as  if  the  whole  world  had  passed  by 
and  left  me  in  the  rear — as  if  I  was  far  behind 
'  the  times." 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


89 


"And  you  are,"  said  the  Kentuckiaii,  "be- 
hind the  times?  Yes,  Sir,  eighteen  luindred 
years !  But  I'aul  says  it  is  tlie  ridiest  thinj^  in 
the  world — that  Union  minister  standing  up  in 
the  puljiit,  as  he  has  to  do  once  every  two  or 
tliree  montlis,  reading  long  pastoral  letters  from 
the  bishop  to  his  diocese,  political  vindications 
of  the  South,  you  know,  the  poor  follow  reading 
it  with  the  necessary  emphasis  and  inllecliou — 
queer  position  for  a  free  man  to  occupy  I" 

Mis.  Warner  did  not  think  so,  however,  wlien 
Mr.  Arthur  called  there  next.  Of  all  his  pas- 
toral duties  none  more  unpleasant  than  a  visit  to 
Mrs.  Warner — until,  at  least,  the  minister  took 
a  lesson  from  Dr.  Warner,  and  sat  and  merely 
listened. /(Of  late  any  one  could  tell,  just  by  see- 
ing l>r.  ■\>Vrner  on  the  streets,  that  tiie  gusts  at 
home  these  days  were  more  violent  than  ever. 
The  Doctor's  neckerchief  was  always  to  one  side 
now,  the  long  ends  hanging  out,  and  dreadfully 
frayed.  There  was  a  crushed  appearance  about 
his  linen ;  a  strip  or  so  of  the  lining  of  his  coat 
hanging  loose  to  the  breeze  from  wrists  and 
skirts  ;  more  buttons  oft'  than  of  yore  from  waist- 
coat and  pantaloons  ;  a  wild  and  disordered  state 
of  his  hair,  too,  a  good  deal  of  it  gone  altogeth- 
er, which  caused  him  strongly  to  resemble  a  mar- 
iner just  out  of  a  terrible  tempest.  And,  storm- 
tossed  and  weather-beaten  as  the  Doctor  was,  he 
was  only  the  fatter  for  it  all.  In  fact,  beaten 
upon  as  the  Doctor  was  by  the  eternal  gusts,  he 
had  got  into  the  habit  of  retiring  completely 
within  himself  these  days,  and  his  body  had  ex- 
panded itself  to  make  room  for  him.)/ 

''What  I  regret,  what  Dr.  Warner  regrets,  if 
he  would  only  say  so — only  he  is  one  of  those 
men  who  never  will  speak  out  as  he  ought — is, 
that  you  do  not  pray  for  the  Confederacy  as  you 
should,  Mr.  Arthur,"  said  Mrs.  Warner  to  that 
gentleman,  sitting  in  her  parlor  this  last  time. 
"  If  you  do  not  feel  prepared  to  preach  sermons 
for  the  Confederacy  and  in  denouncement  of 
the  Yankees,  like  Brother  Barker  and  ever  so 
many  ministers  more,  well,  you  needn't  do  it — 
that  is,  if  you  can  feel  it  in  your  conscience  not 
to  do  so ;  though  I  am  sure  our  revolutionary 
forefathers  took  their  swords  and  muskets  even 
into  the  puli)its  with  them.  But  why  don't  you 
pray  for  the  Confederacy — pray  for  it  warm  and 
strong?  There's  Brother  Barker — and  he  a 
Northern  man  too! — he  prays  every  Sunday, 
I'm  told  by  Mrs.  Stajilcs,  that  the  Almighty  will 
defeat,  destroy,  annihilate  the  Federals ;  that 
He  will  entrap  them  in  snares,  deceive  them  in 
policy,  decimate  them  with  measles,  small-pox, 
and  yellow-fever ;  not  leave  enough  of  them 
alive  next  battle  for  the  sun-ivors  to  bury  the 
rest!  Pray?  yes,  and  for  their  eternal  damna- 
tion too.  They  are  fiends,  they  are  devils,  they 
are  worse  than  the  worst  savages ;  they  richly 
dcser^-e  the  agonies  of  the  pit  I  Why,  lf)ok  at 
it,  Dr.  War— I  mean   Mr.  Arthur!     Thev  are 


invading  our  soil,  they  are  burning  our  cities 
and  homes,  they  are  slaughtering  our  men,  wo- 
men, and  children  ;  they  want  to  set  our  negroes 
free ;  they  arc  hiring  them  all  the  lime  to  rise 
and  cut  our  throats,  and  wash  their  black  feet 
in  our  blood !  Suppose  those  Yankees  succeed  ; 
they  make  us  their  slaves,  to  hew  wood  for  tiicm 
— yes,  drawers  of  wood  and  hewers  of  water  to 
them  long-legged,  tallow-faced,  peddling,  cheat- 
ing Yankees  !  I'd  die  first— die  a  thousand  and 
a  thousand  times  over!  I've  learned  how  to 
siioot  with  a  revolver,  and  I'd  kill  them  as  soon's 
I  would  a  snake.  A  snake? — yes,  a  genuine. 
Southern-born  rattlesnake  is  more  resi)ectablc 
than  a  Yankee !  I've  had  our  carving  steel 
sharpened  to  a  point  for  a  dagger:  if  they 
come  here  I'll  stab  the  first  Yankee  that  en- 
ters that  door!  Come  here?  I  tell  you.  Doc- 
tor— Mr.  Arthur — I'll  burn  down  my  house  with 
my  own  hands  before  they  should  have  it.  I'd 
make  Doctor  Warner  shoot  down  every  Hand 
he's  got — and  they  all  came  to  him  through  me 
— before  he  should  let  the  Yankees  get  them. 
That's  what  Brother  Barker  says,  Dr.  Teel  too, 
Lamum,  and  all.  Did  you  read  Colonel  Ket 
Roberts's  last  speech  ?  Only  his  wife  is  such  a 
poor,  downcast,  silent  sort  of  a  woman !  But 
you  must  pray  for  the  Confederacy  stronger,  Mr. 
Arthur.  Every  body  in  Somerville  is  saying  you 
are  an  Abolitionist.  And  just  suppose  they  was 
to  hang  you  some  day ;  you  may  not  know  it, 
but  people  have  threatened  long  ago  to  hang  you. 
Ain't  you  afraid?  You  know  they  have  hung 
ever  so  many."  And  oh,  how  much,  much  more! 

And  Mr.  Arthur  sat,  holding,  instinctively, 
hard  to  the  arras  of  the  large  jmrlor  rocking- 
chair  in  which  he  sat — sat  while  the  upraised 
gates  of  the  canal  locks  poured  their  tide  upon 
him — sat  waiting  till  the  gush  would  flow  itself 
out. 

And  so  Mrs.  Warner  went  on,  taking  snufF 
with  her  stick  energetically  all  the  time. 

But  the  snuft'  which  she  so  copiously  dijiped  is 
not  Mrs.  Warner's  only  cause.  Last  night  an- 
other of  those  wretched  letters,  written  to  some 
one  in  Somerville — nobody  knows  whom — from 
somebody  near  Corinth,  has  announced  that 
Beauregard  has  actually  evacuated  Corinth,  and 
is  retreating  South  in  confusion  !  But  a  day  or  so 
before  there  had  been  a  well-authenticated  re- 
port in  Somerville  that  Beauregard  had  ordered 
his  army  to  prepare  for  an  immediate  move  upon 
the  enemy.  Lamum  had  filled  the  last  Star 
with  it ;  the  thrilling  address  of  Beauregard  to 
his  soldiers  before  the  great  victory  that  was  to 
he;  the  enthusiasm  of  his  army;  the  utter  de- 
moralization of  the  Federals ;  the  whole  regi- 
ments that  had  already  been  shot  in  the  Union 
intrenchments  for  mutiny;  the  almost  unani- 
mous unwillingness  of  the  troops,  Yankees  though 
they  were,  to  fire  another  shot  upon  the  Confed- 
erates. 


90 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"  Hopeful  as  we  have  always  been  in  regard  to 
matters  atCorintli,"  said  Lamuni,  "we  are  now 
positively  confident  of  a  great  and  glorious  vic- 
tory, full  particulars  of  wliicli  we  will  give  in 
our  next.  Slowly  but  steadily  has  Beauregard 
been  maturing  his  brilliant  plans.  All  informa- 
tion from  Corinth  agrees  that  the  thunder-bolt 
so  long  in  forging  has  doubtless  been  launched 
long  ere  this.  We  congratulate  all  true  South- 
ern men  in  advance  upon  the  great  victory.  As 
to  the  wretched  traitors  among  us,  let  them  know 
their  day  of  doom  is  at  hand !" — and  vastly  more 
to  the  same  effect. 

But  one  of  those  miserable  letters  has  arrived, 
saying  tliat  all  Beauregard's  preparations  were  not 
for  the  rout  of  the  Yankees,  and  for  an  imme- 
diate march  either  on  St.  Louis  or  Chicago,  as 
Lamum  and  all  others  had  so  confidently  i)re- 
dicted,  but  for  a  hasty  retreat — a  retreat  under 
the  fire  of  the  Yankees — and  leaving  behind  in- 
numerable deserters.     And,  somehow,   in  ten 
hours  after  the  arrival  in  Somerville  of  the  let- 
ter,  every    body   knows    its   contents — believes 
them  too,  no  matter  what  they  may  say ;   past 
experiences  have  taught  Somerville  pretty  thor- 
oughly by  this  time  that,  amidst  the  jterjietual 
rumors  afloat,  the  rumors  favorable  to  the  Con- 
federacy are  almost  invariably  false,    and   the 
rumors  of  an  unfavorable  nature  as  invarial)ly 
true — or,  at  least,  too  near  true  to  be  comforta- 
ble.    Those  wretched  letters!     Nothing  could 
have  been  done  that  was  not  done.     A  full  list 
had  been  furnished  the  postmaster  in  Somerville 
of  those  persons  whose   letters  must  be  looked 
into  before  it  could  be  decided  whether  their 
owners  are  to  have  them  or  not.     Faithfully  did 
Mr.   Smithers,   the  postmaster,    obey  these  in- 
structions, but  with  a  painful  sense  all  the  time 
of  deserving  the  Penitentiary  therefor.     Yet  al- 
most every  week  somebody  or  other  in  Somer- 
ville was  receiving  and  spreading  abroad  the 
astounding  contents  of  some  letter  which  should 
never  have  been  written ;  or,  if  written,  should 
never  have  been  read  except  by  an  official ;  or, 
if  read,  should  never  have  been  whisjjered  to  a 
living  soul — never.    These  foolish  letters !   Writ- 
ten from  the  various  seats  of  the  war  by  people 
who  had  reference  in  writing  only  to  the  facts, 
and  not  at  all  to  the  influence  of  those  facts ; 
unknown,  unofficial  people — in  short,  unsalaried 
people,  who,  in  tenderly  sustaining  the  Confed- 
eracy against  every  shock,  had  no  most  unusual 
income  to  nurse  and  protract  thereby.    The  con- 
trast, the  steadily  running  contrast,  between  the 
printed  information  from  the  seats  of  the  war 
and  the  undercurrent  of  private  information  from 
the  same  sources  was  amazing.     Between  the 
cross-streams  of  public  and  of  private  intelli- 
gence the  air  was  always  filled  with  all  sorts  of 
rumors  as  with  the  flying  froth  of  conflicting 
waters. 

Here  is  a  bright  summer  morning  upon  which 


Dr.  Warner  casually  drops  in  upon  Guy  Brooks 
in  his  office.  "  I  would  not  have  my  name  men- 
tioned in  it,  you  understand,"  Dr.  Warner  says, 
in  a  low,  mysterious  tone  to  the  lawyer,  "  but 
there  is  a  rumor  afloat  this  morning  that  Kich- 
mond  has  been  taken.  Of  course  I  do  not  vouch 
fur  the  truth  of  it.  Sam  Peters  was  telling  me 
this  morning — let  it  go  for  what  it  is  worth — that 
he  overheard  Lamum  and  Captain  Simmons 
speaking  earnestly  together  about  Central  Amer- 
ica, tracing  the  route  to  it  on  a  map  open  on 
Lamum's  table.  Of  course  we  attach  no  im])ort- 
ance  to  what  Sam  Peters  says,  but  it  really  looks 
as  if  the  leading  Secessionists  were  contcmjjla- 
ting  a  speedy  flight,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  other  report  from  another  source,  you  ob- 
serve !"  and  the  mild  Doctor  wipes  his  perspiring 
forehead,  from  which  the  hair  is  being  blown 
away  so  in  his  high  winds  at  home ;  quite  bold 
the  Doctor  is  becoming. 

"I  pay  no  attention  to  such  things,"  says  Guy 
Brooks,  with  brightening  eyes,  "  but  it  may  seem 
somewhat  of  a  coincidence;  the  Secessionists — the 
leaders  I  mean — have  had  a  remarkably  depressed 
look  about  them  of  late.  Pshaw!  it's  all  non- 
sense ;  but  I  suppose  you  have  heard  about  some 
lady  or  other  suddenly  coming  in  ujton  Mrs.  Col- 
onel Ret  Roberts  and  finding  her  bathed  in  tears 
with  her  children  around  her.  She  had  just  heard, 
the  interpretation  is,  from  Roberts  at  Richmond 
that  the  game  was  over,  you  see."  But  the  law- 
yer is  ashamed  of  himself  as  he  says  it. 

' '  We  are  kept  so  comjiletely  in  the  dark — 
taking  all  these  {hings  together.  Ah,  well,  we 
shall  know  sooner  or  later,"  says  Dr.  Warner, 
shaking  his  head  as  he  considers  it  all  over. 

"And  so  Dr.  Ginnis  is  running  off"  with  some 
of  your  patients?"  inquires  the  lawyer  at  last. 

"  Sucli  a  loud  Secessionist,  you  know.  I  can 
not  hel])  it.  It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  think 
and  feel  except  as  he  docs  think  and  feel ;  and  I 
make  such  a  poor  hypocrite  do  the  best  at  it  I 
can,"  says  poor  Dr.  Warner. 

That  very  day  the  Scotchman  was  telling  his 
pastor  of  this  same  rumor.  "  It  is  all  over  Som- 
erville ;  people  really  believe  it,"  said  Mr.  Fergu- 
son. And  he  was  right.  Only  wish  to  believe 
anything,  it  is  the  easiest  thing  to  do  so.  "It 
may  be  true,  you  know,"  said  the  Scotchman, 
before  he  had  done  referring  to  it ;  always  scoff- 
ing at  all  news  he  did  not  wish  to  believe,  too. 

"Do  you  see  this  port-folio?"  asked  the  Scotch- 
man of  a  ponderous  scrap-book  lying  open  upon 
his  table,  with  covers  of  blue  pasteboard  a  yard 
square  ;  half  a  foot  thick  the  volume  is.  And  he 
turned  lovingly  over  the  irregular  leaves — pam- 
phlets, speeches,  sermons,  placards,  hand-bills, 
written  notices  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  newspa- 
pers, too,  from  a  yard  across  down,  toward  the 
later  dates,  to  sheets  of  eiglit  inches,  and  of  all 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  according  as  wrapping 
paper  was  being  resorted  to  under  stress  of  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION.  91 


Mb.  FEKGUSON   AND  HIS  RECORD. 


blockade.  "Now,  here  is  a  complete  set  of  the 
news  and  the  minors  since  the  beginning  of  this 
awful  delusion,"  continued  Mr.  Ferguson,  turn 


business  used  to  be  selling  those  lands.  I  have 
none  to  sell  now,  not  a  rood,  for  paper-money, 
vou  understand.     So  I  have  a  good  deal  of  leis- 


ing  over  his  collection  with  the  pride  of  a  virtu-  |  ure  to  spend  on  this  collection.    When  a  rumor 
You  see,  I  own  lands  in  the  State.     My  1  is  afloat  unprinted,  I  write  it  out  myself  and 


oso. 


92 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


paste  it  in  ;"  and  he  turned  in  succession  to  sev- 
eral ])iiges  of  his  own  writing  carefully  inter- 
leaved with  the  rest  of  the  ponderous  volume : 
his  best  hand  it  was  in,  and  with  date  in  full  to 
each  rumor,  and  plenty  of  capitals  and  marks 
of  exclamation. 

"And  eacli  one  of  those  items  was  in  its  turn 
as  a  dose  of  ipecac  to  those  who  did  not  want 
to  believe  it,  and  as — " 

"A  glass  of  usquebaugh  to  those  who  did," 
said  Mr.  Ferguson,  completing  the  sentence  for 
his  pastor.  "Now  I  have  even  classified  these 
items  for  a  regular  index,  here  in  this  blank 
book,  to  tlie  volume,"  continued  the  Scotchman, 
laying  iiis  hand  upon  it.  "I  have  almost  no- 
thing else  to  do ;  and  I  have  become  interested  in 
it  as  a  systematic  study  of  this  war,  and  of  hu- 
man nature  during  it.  Would  you  like  to  hear 
my  classification?" 

The  Scotchman  had  a  grizzled  beard  covering 
all  his  mouth,  and  a  dry,  didactic  way  of  speak- 
ing, with  his  chin  fixed  steadily  between  his 
shirt  collar,  and  in  crisp  sentences.  He  walked 
with  a  stiff,  short  step,  never  turning  his  head 
right  or  left,  fiivoring  his  most  intimate  friends 
with  the  slightest  possible  motion  of  his  head, 
strictly  up  and  down  on  its  vertebrae,  never  a 
shade  to  one  side  or  the  otlier,  when  he  met  them. 
It  had  often  occurred  to  Mr.  Arthur  that  Mr. 
Ferguson,  if  himself  classified,  would  have  been 
labeled  of  the  Linnanis  species — a  botanist  caring 
for  flowers  only  for  analysis,  without  the  slightest 
reference  to  their  hue  or  fragrance. 

"From  the  beginning  of  this  delusion,"  con- 
tinued he,  with  the  dry  precision  of  a  lecturer, 
"  all  of  the  innumerable  rumors  I  have  classified 
as  follows : 

^^ First — The  Confederacy  is  on  the  verge  of 
recognition  by  Euroj)e.  I  have  put  this  first,  as 
being  the  most  frequently  repeated  and  the  most 
steadily  believed. 

"Second — The  North  is  bankrupt,  and  can  not 
carry  on  the  war  beyond  the  fifteenth  of  next 
month  at  the  farthest.  This  was  a  more  fre- 
quent rumor  at  first  than  it  has  been  of  late. 

"  Tliird — A  great  revolution  favorable  to  the 
South  is  impending  at  the  North. 

' '  Fourth — France,  England,  and  Spain  have 
determined  upon  an  instant  armed  intervention 
unless  their  terms  are  agreed  upon  by  the  end 
of  this  month ;  and  the  papers  all  contain  these 
terms,  drawn  fully  out,  article  by  article,  in 
diplomatic  style. 

"  Fifth — KxY  impending  'mutiny  of  the  entire 
Federal  army  against  the  accursed  scheme  into 
which  they  have  been  hounded.' 

"Sixth — Great  and  glorious  victories,  with  the 
slaughter  of  half  of  the  Federal  army  and  the 
capture  of  the  other  half,  stores,  arms,  gun-boats 
beyond  calculation.  To  the  same  head  belongs 
the  repeated  capture  of  Washington  city. 

"Last — The  arrival,  'at  last,'  of  the  Confed- 


erate fleet,  iron-plated,  fully  armed,  from  Eu- 
rope, and  the  impending  destruction  of  the  Fed- 
eral navy.  Suih  are  tiie  classes  of  rumors,  one 
or  more  of  whicli  are  continually  afloat.  It  mat- 
ters not  how  often  a  rumor  has  \xen  abroad  and 
disproved  before;  like  the  balls  of  the  juggler, 
one  or  more  of  them  is  continually  in  the  air 
none  the  less. 

"  I  mention  no  such  small  matter  as  the  death 
— now  by  pneumonia,  now  by  wounds,  now  by  the 
hand  of  some  brave  Southerner  penetrating  into 
his  camp  for  the  purpose — of,  in  turn,  every  lead- 
ing officer  of  the  Federal  army.  rer|)etually 
are  they  being  killed  and  buried.  If  they  are 
perpetually  rising  again  from  the  dead  it  makes 
no  difference.  If  they  are  proved  to  be  alive  to- 
day they  are  certain  to  die  of  disease  or  to  be 
killed  again  in  the  papers  to-morrow.  There  is 
not  a  single  one  of  their  deaths  that  I  have  not 
down  here,"  said  the  Scotchman  with  pride. 

"It  is  amazing  how  readily  the  report  of  yes- 
terday is  drojiped,"  said  ^Ir.  Arthur.  "It  was 
eagerly  heard  and  believed  yesterday,  yet  its  dis- 
proval  to-day  hardly  excites  a  remark.  It  puz- 
zles me." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  countryman  of  Reid 
and  Brown,  in  his  sententious  manner.  "  There 
is  a  reason  for  every  operation  of  the  human 
mind.  Yesterday's  news  is  forgotten  because 
to-day's  news  is  so  much  more  glorious ;  then, 
yesterday's  rumor  was  false,  it  seems,  but  that  of 
to-day  is  certainly  true.  Besides,  tlie  hearty 
Irish  it  may  be  true  is  so  unfailing.  One  thing 
that  interests  me  in  this  continual  stream  of  news 
is  my  studying  tlierein  the  working  of  the  lead- 
ers of  this  most  disastrous  delusion.  Like  the 
paid  pyrotechnist  of  a  Fourth  of  July  night,  they 
see  to  it,  out  of  sight  themselves,  that  some 
rocket  is  always  in  the  air  to  keep  the  gaping 
populace  amused.  They  have  such  a  supply  to 
select  from,"  said  Mr.  Ferguson,  laying  his  broad 
and  hairy  palm  on  his  foolscap  classification. 
"It  is  but  to  dash  off  the  lie  best  suited  to  the 
hour  in  a  few  rapid  lines,  send  it  to  the  next  pa- 
per, and  in  a  few  days  it  is  read  and  believed  over 
the  whole  South.  If  you  had  studied  this  col- 
lection as  I  have.  Sir,  you  would  find  that  just 
when  all  the  appearances  are  at  their  darkest 
for  Secession,  then,  and  exactly  then,  the  largest 
and  most  splendid  lie  is  whizzing  overhead.  It 
comes  down  a  stick,  to  be  sure ;  but  it  answers 
the  purpose  of  the  moment,  and,  on  the  next 
occasion,  up  goes  another." 

Mr.  Arthur  did  not  care  to  say  so  to  his  friend 
— he  was  too  weary  of  strife  for  that ;  but  he 
knew  it  w-as  all  only  a  whimsey  of  notionate  Mr. 
Ferguson.  Like  multitudes  of  other  men,  the 
Scotchman  ascribed  to  the  politicians  far  more 
than  was  at  all  due  them  ;  for  far  more  than 
they  ever  even  dreamed  of  doing  they  had  all 
the  curse  or  all  the  credit,  as  the  case  was, 
thought  the  minister.     They  lashed  the  placid 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


93 


ocean  into  tempest,  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
rode  tiliiwly  liunie  to  Mrs.  Sorel's.  Wlmt  loiig- 
contiiiued  andsuperliuniau  exertion  it  reiiiiired  ! 
But  now  that  tiiey  have  fairly  wrought  it  into 
conimotion,  the  waters  howl  and  heave  and 
sparkle  with  all  iihosphorescent  fires  by  the  force 
of  their  own  fury. 

Arrived  at  home  and  gone  to  bed,  Mars,  not 
Morpiu'us,  presided  over  his  slumbers.  Slum- 
ber? During  the  first  hour  or  so  after  lying 
down  he  tossed  as  on  the  wild  waves,  wrecked, 
and  the  bottom  of  ocean  miles  beneath  his  strug- 
gling feet.  The  waters  around  him  are  thick 
with  men  and  women  clutching  at  and  hurled 
otV  from  each  other,  the  drowning  and  the 
drowned.  How  red  they  are,  too,  the  waters 
slimy  and  clinging,  so  that  he  can  hardly  even 
struggle  in  them.  How  many  upturned  faces 
rise  and  sink  there !  Can  that  bold  brow  with 
the  large-set  eyes  be  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  ?  The 
thin  face  of  the  postage  stamps  jostled  cheek  by 
jowl  with  Bob  Withers's  ruby  countenance  and 
the  jiale  cheek  of  Lainnm  ?  Horror  !  There 
floats  by  him  a  fair  form,  every  lock  of  whose 
streaming  hair  is  dearer  to  him  than  life,  thrust 
aside  by  the  sudden  countenance  of  Colonel  Jug- 
gins, giving  i)lace  to  that  of  Mrs.  Juggins ;  and 
amidst  all  the  gurgling,  gasping  terror  the  dream- 
er hears  as  from  her  lips,  "What  I  say  is,  why 
can't  they  stay  where  they  come  from?  We 
warn't  interruptin'  them  that  I  know  of,"  and 
the  sleeper  is  awakened  by  his  own  laughter. 

"  Look  here,  my  friend,"  he  reasons  with  him- 
self, "along  this  way  madness  lies."  He  is  right 
there.  Only  give  np  to  the  thonghts  pressing 
like  the  Eumenides  after  you  just  now,  and  you 
are  in  the  highway  to  whitened  hair  and  brow 
prematurely  wrinkled,  and  insanity  and  suicide. 
Millions  at  the  South  ai'e  on  that  path  now,  suf- 
fering along  all  its  degrees.  Sleeplessness  ?  For 
the  first  year  of  the  war  men  could  not  sleep  o' 
nights  for  the  horror  of  the  thing.  However,  as 
nature  creates,  they  say,  a  sort  of  integument,  a 
callous  membrane  about  a  bullet  lodged  in  the 
body,  so  there  grew  a  kind  of  covering,  a  cal- 
lous aceustomedness  about  the  horror  of  the  hour 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  enabling  them  to  endure  it. 

With  solemn  resolve  to  go  to  sleep,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, after  pacing  the  floor  an  hour  or  so  in 
forming  it,  lay  down  again.  He  is  just  getting 
into  a  comfortable  doze  when  the  thought  smites 
him  up  and  out  of  bed  again  :  "Suppose  at  the 
North  Christian  men  and  Christian  ministers 
are  as  frantic,  rabid,  raving,  unchristian,  blood- 
thirsty for  the  Right  as  Brother  Barker  and  his 
kind  are  here  for  the  Wrong  ?"  And  he  travels 
miles  np  and  down  his  room  upon  that  track  of 
thonght.  About  his  three-hundredth  turn  at  the 
wardrobe  at  the  end  opposite  his  bed  the  idea 
smites  him  full  abreast,  and  halts  him  there  for 
long  minutes :  and  isn't  this  just  the  process,  you 
poor  creature,  by  which  the  whole  land,  North 


and  South,  is  being  prepared,  throngh  the  deep 
Ininiiliation  of  the  cliurcli,  for  the  greatest  re- 
ligious reaction  the  land  and  the  world  has  ever 
known — to  follow,  can't  you  see  it,  on  the  heels 
of  the  war? 

And  the  Rev.  Edward  Arthur  goes  again  to 
bed  ujwn  this  opiate,  and  sleeps  sweetly  until 
morning. 


IN   LOVB. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

We  really  can  not  and  will  not  permit  our  at- 
tention to  be  drawn  off  one  moment  longer  from 
Dr.  Peel ;  he  looms  altogether  too  consjiicuous- 
ly  npon  the  Somen-ille  horizon  for  that.  It  is 
impossible  longer  to  ignore  the  deep  and  wide- 
spread imjiression  he  has  made  upon  that  intel- 
ligent community. 

"Describe  him  to  you  ?"  says  fair  Anne  Wright 
to  an  old  schoolmate,  with  whom  she  is  convers- 
ing, on  a  visit  from  an  adjoining  county.  "I 
can  not,  Laura  ;  you  must  sec  him  for  yourself, 
child." 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  at  least  give  me  some 
hint,  can  tell  me  something  about  him,"  urges 
her  curious  friend — naturally  curious  from  tho 
perpetual  reference  she  hears  made  to  him  be- 
neath that  roof.     "Is  he  a  big  man ?" 

"At  least  not  a  little  man,"  laughs  Anne. 
"Yes,  I  do  really  believe  he  is  the  largest — 1 
mean  the  grandest  man  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life. 


94 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Such  a  noble  chest!  His  forehead,  too,  high 
and  prominent.  And  tiien  his  eyes — the  finest 
you  ever  saw — eyebrows,  and  hair  all  as  black  ? 
That  isn't  the  name  for  it.  But  his  eyes — the 
most  splendid  you  ever  saw — look  as  if  they  were 
actually  alive !" 

"Why,  so  they  are  if  the  man  isn't  dead," 
says  her  more  prosaic  friend. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Laura!  I  told  you  I  could 
not  begin  to  describe  him,"  says  Anne,  who  is  a 
fragile  and  lovely  blonde.  "There  is  a  sort  of 
soft  fire  in  tlieni,  except  when  he  gets  roused ; 
then  how  they  glow  and  flash  and  scorch  !  And 
then  he  has  such  a  voice,  child ;  I  do  know  it  is 
the  sweetest  and  deepest.  And  pa  tells  me  he 
makes  speeches  in  Somerville  the  most  power- 
ful— makes  the  people  laugh  one  moment,  and 
cry  like  children  the  next.  And  when  he  de- 
nounces the  Yankees  or  the  Union  people !  Why 
pa  says  his  voice,  when  he  lifts  it,  can  be  heard 
for  miles.  Pa  says  he  is  equal  to  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts,  if  not  superior.  And  then  he  dresses 
so  splendidly!  The  finest  broadcloth,  the  whit- 
est and  finest  linen,  the  richest  vests.  I  do  think 
his  neck-ties — figured  silk  scarfs,  you  know — are 
the  gayest  and  the  brightest.  One  notices  such 
things  so  much  more  these  days  when  we  are  all 
wearing  our  old  things  on  account  of  the  block- 
ade— this  old  calico,  for  instance.  And  his  jew- 
elry, too !  Pa  objects  to  that  in  Dr.  Peel.  And 
I  didn't  like  it  in  gentlemen  either  till  I  saw  Dr. 
Peel.  He  wears  several  rings  on  his  fingers, 
large  ones,  one  or  two  diamonds  among  tbem. 
Then  his  heavy  gold  watch — I  have  noticed  it 
when  he  takes  it  out  to  see  if  he  ought  not  to  be 
going — it  is  so  massive  and  rich,  with  such  a 
heavy  gold  chain  to  it  all  across  his  bosom. 
But  you  ought  only  to  see  his  breast-pins,  Laura! 
A  different  one  every  time,  at  least,  he  has  called 
out  here — the  richest !  What  is  most  uncom- 
mon about  him  is  the  quantity  of  perfumes  he 
uses.  Pa  almost  swears  about  it.  I  don't  ob- 
ject to  it.  Why,  Laura,  in  his  appearance, 
bearing,  and  all,  his  olive  complexion,  too,  he 
looks  like  a  Spaniard — a  Sjianish  prince,  so 
large  and  sumptuous  and  magnificent  in  com- 
parison with  us  plain  people." 

"Why,  the  man  must  be  rich,"  says  Laura. 

"  Every  body  says  so.  He  always  has  plenty 
of  money,  and  he  pays  it  out  as  freely  as  a  king. 
The  ladies  there  in  Somerville  have  only  to  go 
to  him  to  get  any  amount  they  want,  provided 
only  it  is  for  the  war  in  any  way.  Not  our  mis- 
erable, ragged,  dirty  paper-money  ;  great  round 
twenty-dollar  gold  pieces ;  and,  you  know,  they 
are  worth  ever  so  much  more  th.an  paper.  And 
as  to  his  politics,  pa  says  he  never  saw — " 

"Give  for  the  war?  He  must  be  a  good  South- 
ern man,"saysLaura,threadingIierneedle  afresh. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say,  pa  says  he  is  most 
determined,  active,  liberal,  confident ;  '  the  most 
splendid  specimen  of  a  Southern  gentleman  I 


ever  saw,'  pa  said,  after  Dr.  Peel  left  here  last 
Saturday.  And  that's  just  what  we  like  him 
most  for,"  continues  Anne  Wright,  with  enthu- 
siasm. "You  know  what  a  hot  Southern  man 
pa  is;  but  Dr.  Peel  is  aliead  of  liim,  of  any 
body  I  know.  I've  always  been  a  good  Seces- 
sionist, which  is  more  than  you  can  say,  Laura. 
Now  don't  be  offended,  dear,  but  it's  actuallv 
awful  to  hear  Dr.  Peel  talk  about  the  Yankees-^ 
the  most  despicable  people,  he  says,  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  ;  yes,  and  proves  it  in  a  thou- 
sand ways.  And  then  to  hear  him  speak  about 
the  South,  its  extent,  resources,  glorious  vic- 
tories, future  prospects,  how  essential  its  success 
is  to  the  whole  world — I  can't  remember  it  all, 
but  it  is  like  reading  an  oration."  ^ 

"  Yes ;  but  why  isn't  he  off  for  the  war  ?"  asks 
Laura,  whose  people,  by-tiie-by,  have  been  dread- 
fully suspected  of  entertaining  Union  sentiments. 
Plague  take  them !  as  Mrs.  Warner  is  steadily 
remarking,  you  find  them  here  and  there  and 
every  where. 

"You  silly  child,  he  is  in  the  war.  Not  a 
private  soldier  to  dig  in  the  trenches,  or  to  be 
shot  down  like  common  people.  If  you  were  to 
see  -liim  once  you  would  see  how  absurd  that 
would  be.  No,  Dr.  Peel  fills  some  high  position 
or  other.  He  is  often  away  from  Somerville  at- 
tending to  military  business ;  in  correspondence 
continually  with  President  Davis,  General  Beau- 
regard, and  the  rest.  He  brought  a  superb 
sword  all  the  way  out  here  to  sliow  me,  one 
that  Davis  had  presented  him  with,  gold  scab- 
bard, silver  hilt,  with  a  great  red  gem  of  some 
sort  in  the  end,  silver  chains  to  it,  and  all.  Pa 
pressed  him  to  tell  us  more  particularly  about 
his  position — it  was  only  last  Saturday.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  his  manner  as  he  said  it — 
'  It  would  give  me  much  pleasure,  INIajor  Wright, 
to  inform  you.  I  flatter  myself  it  would  inter- 
est and  astonish  you  if  I  was  only  at  lil)erty  to 
tell.  A  gentleman  of  your  intelligence,  howev- 
er, will  understand  that  there  are  elevated  and 
difficult  duties — duties  which  require  oaths  of  se- 
crecy.' And  then  he  drew  himself  up  with  such 
dignity  I  couldn't  help  thinking  what  a  splen- 
did Confederate  senator  he  would  make.  Don't 
whisjjer  it,  Laura ;  but  he  has  already  told  us 
that  he  has  some  promise,  when  the  war  is  over, 
of  the  mission — you  know  we  will  have  embas- 
sadors like  other  nations — to  Austria  or  Russia 
or  Spain,  he  was  not  assured  yet  which.  But, 
my  dear,"  ran  on  Anne,  generally  the  quietest 
of  girls,  enraptured  with  her  theme,  "you  ought 
only  to  hear  him  tell  about  being  taken  for  a 
Federal  spy  there  in  Somerville,  oh,  months  ago. 
He  told  us  about  a  self-appointed  Committee  vis- 
iting his  rooms  at  Staples's  Hotel  to  examine. 
The  idea  was  so  funny,  and  then  the  way  he 
took  off  Bob  Withers  and  that  fussy  old  Dr. 
Ginnis,  pa  like  to  have  died  laughing.  And 
such  splendid  teeth,  speaking  of  laughing,  you 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


95 


know,  he  has !  He  had  met  with  ever  so 
manv  siiiKuhir  lulvontures  in  his  life,  ho  told  us, 
but  that  being  taken  for  a  Federal  spy  he  did 
think  was  the  richest  of  all.  Ho  sat  down  on 
the  spot,  ho  told  us,  and  wrote  to  the  President 
a  full  account  of  it,  just  to  give  Davis,  he  said, 
one  good  laugh  if  ho  never  has  another.  How 
they  tuml)led  over  his  things,  peeped  into  his 
boots,  and  all — pompous  Captain  Simmons  and 
the  rest.  But  ho  was  glad  to  sec  it,  he  said  ;  it 
showed  the  peoi)le  were  active  and  wide  awake 
for  the  Confederacy." 

"Why,  he  must  have  been  out  here  quite  oft- 
en?" said  the  friend,  with  a  smiling  malice  in 
her  eye. 

"No,  not  very  often;  that  is,  not  very,  very 
often,"  replies  Anne,  very  red  and  then  quite 
pale.  "  But  we  won't  talk  about  him  any  more , 
I'm  tired  of  it.  How  do  you  fix  these  gathers, 
Laura?  you  are  such  a  wise  body,  and  I  am  such 
a  poor  little  good-for-nothing." 

"Oh,  you  artful  little  goose,"  broke  in  her 
friend,  "  if  you  ain't  in  love  with  the  man  my 
name  isn't  Laura  Rice  !" 

"What  nonsense,  Laura!"  says  poor  trans- 
lucent Anne,  blushing  very  red,  and  then  turn- 
ing so  pale  it  was  unpleasant  to  see.  "I  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  Me  ?  I  would  as  soon 
think  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  If  you  only 
knew  him,  what  a  great,  magnificent — " 

"Nonsense  yourself,  Anne,  don't  I  know," 
says  her  visitor,  who,  being  quite  plain,  was  that 
much  the  more  strong-minded  and  sensible.  "  If 
you  don't  know  you  ought  to  know  that  just  such 
fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  nice  little  bodies  as  Anne 
Wright  are  the  very  ones  your  big  Spanish 
princes  are  most  apt  to  fall  in  love  with." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Lau- 
ra," said  her  friend,  flushing  with  pleasure  one 
moment,  almost  ready  to  cry  the  next.  "You 
ever  whisper  such  a  thing,  and  see  if  I  don't  tell 
every  body  you  are  Union.  Dr.  Peel  may  have 
shown  me  a  good  deal  of  attention  at  balls  in 
Somerville,  concerts,  tableaux.  He  may  have 
been  out  to  talk  with  pa  about  the  war.  I  nev- 
er once  thought,  I  never  dared  to  think  of  such 
a  thing.  If  I  was  only  a  strong,  beautiful  girl, 
high-spirited,  like  Alice  Bowles  say — but  poor 
little  me?  Why,  he  could  put  me  in  his  vest 
pocket  almost.  Me,  child !  You  think  yourself 
mighty  wise,  but  you  never  were  more  mistaken 
in  all  your  life."  And  Anne  vows  she  will  nev- 
er mention  Dr.  Peel's  name  to  any  body  again 
as  long  as  she  lives,  rattles  oft'  upon  other  topics 
for  a  while,  and  then  becomes  so  silent  as  to  be 
but  poor  company  for  her  friend. 

And  Dr.  Peel  is  a  magnificent-looking  man, 
no  denying  that  fact.  As  Anne  Wright  said  to 
iier  friend,  he  did  look  "  the  very  hero  of  a  nov- 
el, dear;  Byron's  Corsair,  and  ail  that.  And 
sings?  You  only  ought  to  hear  him  sing!" 
He  looks  all  this  the  more  strikingly  these  last 


few  days  from  contrast  with  Lieutenant  Ravenel. 
The  Lieutenant  is  a  late  arrival  in  Somerville. 
He  and  Dr.  Peel,  to  whom  he  lias  brougiit  let- 
ters of  introduction  from  South  Carolina,  are  in- 
separable. Any  one  can  sec  what  particular 
jdeasure  the  Doctor  takes  in  introducing  him  to 
all  his  friends — that  is  to  say,  all  the  gentle- 
men, not  Union  men,  to  be  met  on  the  streets. 
"A  genuine  bit  uf  Ciiarleston  aristocracy.  Hu- 
guenot blood,  distinguished  for  his  gallantry  in 
the  war;  on  important  business  from  the  War 
Dej)arlment,  tliough  what  that  business  is  I  can 
not  get  out  of  him,"  says  Dr.  Peel  aside  to  his 
friends  in  billiard  saloon  and  street  corner. 

If  you  observe  them  in  Mrs.  Bowles's  parlor 
on  a  visit  they  make  that  lady.  Dr.  Peel  looms 
up  peculiarly  large  in  comparison  with  the  small, 
almost  girlish,  size  and  form  of  tiie  Lieutenant. 
The  Doctor  is  quite  swarthy,  while  the  Lieuten- 
ant is  exceedingly  fair  and  rosy,  no  perceptible 
beard  yet — too  young  for  that.  A  handsome 
fellow,  too,  in  his  way,  in  his  neatly-fitting  gray 
suit,  the  sleeves  richly  embroidered ;  the  mili- 
tary cap  sitting  jauntily  on  the  side  of  his  head 
is  off  now,  of  course,  and  you  can  not  fail  to  ad- 
mire his  light  and  curly  locks.  "My  dear  mo- 
ther fitted  me  out  before  I  left  Charleston  with 
her  own  hands,"  he  told  Mrs.  Bowles  in  return 
for  some  compliment  upon  his  attire.  Such 
frank,  open,  cordial  manners !  Fun,  too,  al- 
ways lurking  in  the  corners  of  his  dark  eye  and 
chiseled  mouth,  breaking  out  continually  in 
ready  laughter,  artless  and  unrestrained  as  a 
child,  over  dimpled  chin  and  cheek.  Every 
body  likes  the  Lieutenant  on  the  spot  warmly ; 
you  can  not  help  it. 

"By  George!  and  those  slight-built,  pretty- 
faced  fellows,  girlish  as  they  look,  are  the  very 
ones  to  fight,  you'll  bet ;  perfect  devils  incarnate 
when  a  battery  has  got  to  be  stormed.  That's 
what  the  English  people  found  out  about  their 
London  dandies  there  in  that  war  with  the  Rus- 
sians," says  Bob  Withers  in  reply  to  Dr.  Gin- 
nis's  sneers  at  Lieutenant  Ravenel. 

For  a  wonder  Dr.  Peel  sits  comparatively  si- 
lent in  Mrs.  Bowles's  parlor  this  evening,  and 
lets  the  Lieutenant  do  all  the  talking.  And 
Mrs.  Bowles  is  in  a  flutter  of  delight  over  a  visit 
from  one  direct  from  Charleston,  and  has  a  thou- 
sand questions  to  ask  about  Charleston  and  South 
Carolina.  Lieutenant  Ravenel  knows  almost 
every  body  and  every  thing  there.  She  has 
vague  recollections  of  having  often  seen  the 
Lieutenant  himself  when  a  little  boy  playing 
on  the  Battery  there  at  Charleston,  His  fam- 
ily she  knows,  of  course,  ever  since  she  knew 
any  thing.  And  the  Lieutenant  has  a  world  to 
say  about  Rutledge  Bowles,  with  whom  he  has 
been  intimately  associated,  and  whom  he  likes 
almost  as  much  as  his  mother. 

"Only,  you  know,  M^adam,  there  is  no  merit 
in  that.     Every  one  admires  and  likes  Rutledge 


96 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Bowles.     How  much  he  is  growing  to  resemble  | 
his  father  in  the  jiortrait — of  the  Major,  I  pre- 
sume it  is,  Madam?"  says  the  Lieutenant,  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand  toward  the  old  hero  in  his 
frame  overhead.  j 

"I  am  pleased  to  know  it,"  says  little  Mrs. 
Bowles,  all  tiie  mother  kindling  through  her  re- 
fined and  thoroughly  lady-like  manner.  "Did 
Rutledge  Bowles  send  his  photograph  by  you?" 
she  adds,  eagerly.  I 

"  He  would  have  done  so.  Madam,  for  I  heard 
him  speak  of  desiring  to  send  it  only  the  week  I 
left.  The  fact  is,  I  was  not  intending  then  to 
leave  Charleston,  much  less  come  so  far  south  as 
this.  Intending  ?  Upon  my  word,  Madam,  I 
had  no  such  intention.  Just  ten  minutes  before  ' 
the  Augusta  train  ran  out  of  Charleston  my 
Colonel  caught  me  on  the  street  with  dispatches  , 
in  his  hand  and  a  sealed  note  of  instruction  for 
myself.  'You  will  hardly  have  time  to  throw 
your  linen  in  a  valise  and  run,'  he  said.  I  did 
run,  hard  as  I  could  tear,  Madam ;  barely  in 
time  to  catch  the  train  as  it  ran  out  of  the  de'- 
p6t.  You  remember  it  is  a  good  distance  from 
the  Post-office,  where  I  was  when  the  Colonel 
caught  me.  At  the  rate  they  hurry  us  a  pair 
of  fresh  feet  ought  to  be  served  out  every  few 
hours  as  a  regular  ration,  Madam — a  relay  of 
wings,  or  something  of  the  sort."  The  Lieuten- 
ant is  so  perfectly  a  gentleman,  at  the  same  time 
so  overflowing  with  life  and  fun  that  he  keeps 
Dr.  Peel  and  Mrs.  Bowles  and  Alice  laughing, 
the  first  named  especially,  all  the  evening. 

"I  could  wish  Rutledge  Bowles  was  a  little 
more  lenient  toward  the  faults  of  his  subor — I 
mean  his  superior  officers,  as  they  are  called  in 
military  language,"  says  Mrs.  Bowles,  not  with- 
out pride.     "He  seems  to  be  always  in  some 
difficulty  with  them.     Yet  Rutledge  Bowles  has, 
though  young,  a  good  deal  of  his  father's,  the 
Major's,  accuracy  and  energy  of  character  too. 
He  lately  sent  me  full  drawings  of  all  the  do-  \ 
fenses  of  Charleston,  with  an  exact  statement  j 
of  the  number  and  disposition  at  the  time  of  our  • 
troops  there."  I 

"Was  that  not  rather — excuse  me — against 
rules?"  began  the  Lieutenant,  politely. 

"  So  he  said  in  his  letter.  '  But  since  you 
have  written  for  them,  mother,'  he  wrote,  'I 
will  risk  it.'  It  was  a  foolish  curiosity  I  had,  ' 
not  to  see  the  drawings  and  that,  but  to  see  how 
well  he  could  do  it.  Friends  here  also  would 
like  to  see  what  Rutledge  Bowles  could  do.  Still 
I  did  not  wish  him  to  come  unnecessarily  in  con- 
flict with  his — superiors."  I 

"Oh,  we  all  know  Rutledge  Bowles,"  says 
Lieutenant  Ravenel,  gayly.  "For  my  part  I 
do  assure  you,  Madam,  I  have  talked  with  him 
upon  that  very  point  often.  You  see.  Madam, 
^v>e  were  students  together  at — tut,  pshaw,  was  it 
at  the  Citadel  or—" 

"Columbia,"  suggests  Mrs.  Bowles. 


[  "What  am  I  thinking  about?  Columbia.  I 
prepared  for  Columbia  at  the  Citadel.  Colum- 
bia, of  course.  I  could  take  the  liberty  with 
him,  you  observe ;  it  is  not  every  one  who  can. 
If  Rutledge  Bowles  has  a  fault  it  is  ])ridc.  But 
I  could  do  nothing  with  him.  Ah,  before  it 
escapes  my  mind,  those  drawings  you  spoke  of, 
would  you  be  so  kind?  And  all  the  papers,  in 
fact,  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble?" 

It  is  no  trouble  at  all.  Mrs.  Bowles  knows  ex- 
actly where  the  package  is.  Lieutenant  Havencl 
glances  rapidly  over  them,  but  is  so  pleased  with 
them  that  he  begs  permission  to  take  them  with 
him,  will  return  them  in  the  morning — they  are 
well  worth  an  hour's  study.  Mrs.  Bowles  con- 
sents, of  course.  The  dear  lady  glows  up  to  the 
smooth  parting  of  her  silvered  hair  with  pleas- 
ure. A  visitor,  and  a  Ravenel  too,  from  ('harles- 
ton ! — it  is  as  an  angel  stoojjing  from  Eden  to 
banished  and  pining  Eve.  What  with  South 
Carolina,  the  war,  and  Rutledge  Bowles,  the 
evening  passes  rapidly  by.  The  gentlemen  con- 
sent to  remain  till  tea,  Alice  entertaining  them 
while  her  mother  absents  herself,  making  some 
special  arrangements  connected  therewith. 

Neither  of  the  ladies  have  any  admiration  for 
Dr.  Peel,  his  sumptuous  attire,  jewelry,  and  es- 
sences. But  on  account  of  the  Lieutenant,  w  ho 
remembers  Alice,  often  met  her  with  her  nurse 
in  King  Street — her  mother  also,  only  it  is  so 
long  ago,  at  Hibernian  Hall  he  thinks  it  was — 
they  can  not  refuse  to  pay  the  Doctor  all  due 
attention.  Yet  the  Lieutenant  is  the  soul  of  the 
evening,  at  tea-table,  and  after  tea  till  near  mid- 
night. The  war  is,  of  course,  second  as  a  topic 
only  to  Rutledge  Bowles,  and  Lieutenant  Rav- 
enel regards  the  attempt  of  the  North  to  pre- 
vent our  independence  as  the  choicest  of  jokes. 
He  describes  their  cowardice,  how  they  scamfjer 
and  squall  for  quarter  in  every  battle  till  Alice 
can  not  help  laughing  heartily,  while  Mrs. 
Bowles's  cheeks  are  wet  with  tears  of  mirth. 
"Not  that  I  do  not  from  my  inmost  heart  pity 
them,"  says  good  Mrs.  Bowles.  "The  madness, 
the  frantic  folly  of  their  miserable  leaders  it  is 
excites  my  anger.  Poor  creatures,  the  Federal 
privates — mechanics,  I  presume,  most  of  them, 
ignorant  persons.  Y'et  they,  too,  have  wives 
and  children  to  sigh  and  weep  for  them." 

The  gay  Lieutenant  is  grave  in  an  instant. 
In  low,  soft  tones  he  recounts  sad,  sad  incidents 
which,  he  is  not  ashamed  of  it,  have  moved  him 
to  tears  even  in  battle.  "Poor,  poor  creat- 
ures! I  agree  in  your  Christian  sentiment, 
Madam  ;  yes,  we  can  well  afford  to  pity."  But 
the  Lieutenant  is  familiar  with  the  plans  of  the 
Confederate  generals,  narrates  skirmishes  of 
which  Mrs.  Bowles  and  Alice  have  not  as  yet 
had  oftportunity  to  read.  Nor,  owing  to  their 
retired  situation,  have  they  had  such  full  particu- 
lars of  the  noble  fleet  being  built  in  Confederate 
ports  and  in  Europe  for  the  Confederacy.     The 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Lieutenant  tells  them,  too,  of  certain  ncgotia- 1  down  to  the  piano.  She  does  not  exactly  sec 
tions  then  in  jirogross  witli  foicign  jtowcrs;  ini-  the  joke,  but  it  is  the  reniiest  of  u  guest,  a  fa- 
parts  tile  fullest  iiifunnation  in  rcfLience  to  the  vurc-U  guest.  Yankee  Doodle  first.  iSlie  had 
great  revolution,  already  arranged  and  soon  to  almost  forgotten  it.  The  servants  in  the  kitchen 
break  out  at  the  North  for  the  overthrow  "of  positively  refuse  to  i)elievc  tiieir  ears.  The  Star- 
Lincoln    and — ]iardv)n    me,    ladies — his    hellish    Spangled  Hanner  next.     Cliarles  and  Sallv,  in 


crew."  A  vast  deal  more  to  the  same  etfcct, 
all  in  a  manner  so  sparkling  yet  dtfcreiiiial  as 
to  bring  back  to  Mrs.  Jiowles  those  hapjiy,  haj)- 
py  diiys  in  dear  old  Charleston. 


the  hall  by  this  time,  listening,  paralyzed  with 
vague  ideas  that  the  Yankees  have  arrived  at 
last.  The  Lieutenant  l)eside  her  strikes  in  with 
the  words  after  the  first  line.    Mrs.  Bowles  glances 


"Really  you  should  sec  the  editor  of  our  jia-    up  nervously,  to  meet  the  laughing  eyes  of  her 
ix'r — a  Northern  man,  I  regret  to  say,"  begins    guest.     What  a  willful,  handsome,  foolish  fel- 
low ! 


"  Now  Hail  Columbia,  if  you  will  pardon  mv 


Mrs.  Bowles. 

"Lieutenant  Ravenel  has  already  seen  Lam- 
um,  Madam,'  interposes  Dr.  I'eel.  "  We  spent  ^  folly,"  jileads  tlie  volatile  olHcer.  It  is  a  severe 
yestcrdayevcning  with  him.  The  5/ar  will  con- |  strain  upon  her  good-breeding,  but  .she  has  no 
tain  in  its  next  issue  more  really  interesting  in-  time  to  refuse.  This  time  Dr.  Peel  is  on  her 
formation  than  any  number  since  the  war  be-  other  side,  his  deep  voice  swelling  that  martial 
gan."  j  melody.    It  is  better  sung  than  played,  but  sjden- 

And  it  did  contain  just  that.    Somerville  read    didly  done  as  it  is.     Alice  is  turning  over  a  book 
it  with  keen  pleasure  or  the  reverse,  according    on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  the  tears,  to  her 


own  astonislinient,  trickling  fast  and  free  down 
her  cheeks.  Her  emotions?  The  variation  of 
magnetism  not  more  beyond  her  analysis  or  con- 
trol. 

"It  will  be  such  a  joke  to  tell  Rutledge  when 
I  see  him,"  says  the  laughing  soldier.  Mrs. 
Bowles  is  three-fourths  ruffled  with  him,  but 
not  consent  to  trespass  upon  the  ladies  any  Ion-  '  there  is  a  fascination  about  the  young  Carolinian 
per.  "Only  one  piece  of  music  more  before  we  which  she  can  not  resist.  With  the  last  note  of 
leave,"  says  the  lively  Lieutenant,  who  has  been  the  magnificent  anthem  the  gentlemen  take  their 
beside  Alice  at  the  piano  turning  over  the  leaves  hats  to  leave,  apologizing  for  their  long  stay. 
for  her,  even  joining  in  with  a  well-trained  voice,  And  Mrs.  Bowles  has  to  apologize  also  for  Alice, 
as  she  played  and  sang  this  and  that  for  the  last    who  has  left  the  room. 


to  the  political  tendencies  of  the  reader.  Mr. 
Ferguson  reganled  that  number  of  the  Star  as 
one  of  the  most  valuable  in  his  whole  collection. 
The  visit  of  Lieutenant  Ravenel  was  an  event 
in  Somerville.  Somerville,  in  fact,  remembers 
it  distinctly  to  this  hour. 
But  it  waxes  late.     The  gentlemen  really  can 


"I  fear  I  have  oflendcd  Miss  Alice  by  my 
whimsey  in  regard  to  that  old  music,"  says  the 
handsome  Lieutenant,  seriously,  and  with  peni- 
tent face.  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  myself  I 
fear  levity  is  my  besetting  sin.  Apologize  for 
me,  Madam;  she  must  forgive  me  on  the  ground 
of  our  being  both  Carolinians.  And  may  I  beg," 
adds  the  Lieutenant,  coming  back  into  the  par- 
lor after  taking  his  leave,  "  that  you  will  not  al- 
lude to  my  visit  in  writing  to  Rniled.'e?  There 
are  reasons — in  fact,  I  am  here  on  secret  serv- 
ice."    His  peculiar  position  prevents  the  officer 


hour. 

"Well,  if  I  can,"  s.iys  Alice,  with  a  smile, 
her  fingers  on  the  keys. 

"Hail  Columbia.  Only  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing,  you  know,"  says  her  visitor,  kuighing. 

"You  must  excuse  me."  Alice  has  a  taste 
for  fun,  but  finds  no  amusement  in  doing  just 
that,  she  does  not  ask  herself  why. 

"Well,  then,  the  Star-Spangled  Banner." 

"Excuse  me.  Lieutenant  Ravenel,"  quite  de- 
cidedly, too. 

"Pardon  me,  only  Yankee  Doodle,  just  for 
the  amusement  of  it,"  pleads  the  Confederate  '  from  saying  more.     No  one  has  finer  tact  than 
officer,  with  hands  clasped  in  comic  supplication.    Mrs.  Bowles.     She  anticipates  him,  understands 
"You  play  so  well."  I  the  whole,   and  hastens  to   express  again  her 

"I  can  be  guilty  of  no  such— such  mockery,"    gratification  at  having  met  him.     And  so  they 
says  Alice,  surprised  at  her  own  dei>th  of  feeling    part. 

and  energy  of  refusal.     With  heightened  roses,  j      "I  do  solemnly  declare,  Fairfiix,  you  are  a 
too-  trump!     But  look  here,  man,  yon  carried  it  too 

"I  really  am  amazed  at  you,  Alice,"  says  her  far  to-night,  entirely  too  far."  It  is  Dr.  I'ecl 
mother,  as  Alice  rises  from  the  instrument.  "A  who  makes  this  remark  over  and  over  when  they 
willful  daughter,  much  like  Rutledgc  Bowles  in  are  safely  in  the  streets,  and  once  again  with 
character.  Lieutenant  Ravenel.  But  since  you  new  emphasis  when  they  arc  seated  in  the  Doc- 
have  given  us  so  pleasant  an  evening.  Sir.  Of  [  tor's  room  at  Staples's  Hotel, 
course  I  respect  your  aversion  to  the  North,  |  His  companion  pays  no  attention  to  him  until 
Alice,  but  then —  If  you  will  excuse  my  poor  he  has  completed  an  accurate  copy  of  the  p.-v 
practicc.  Lieutenant  Ravenel—"  |  pers  from  Rutledgc  Bowles  loaned  him  by  Mrs. 

And  Mrs.  Bowles,  who  is  a  fine  plaver,  sits   Bowles. 
O 


98 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"HAIL  COLUMBIA!" 


"Beautifully  done,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  after  ex- 
amining the  work.  "What  a  draughtsman  you 
are,  Fairfax !  And  the  list,  too  ;  useful  docu- 
ments." 

"Worth  coming  all  the  way  to   this   little 


Somerville  to  get.  Yon  see  we  can  buy  any 
number  of  papers  of  the  sort  on  the  spot.  But 
those  are  made  to  sell,  perhaps  to  deceive ;  this 
we  know  to  be  correct.  My  conscience  hurts 
me  awfully,  however,"   adds   the   Lieutenant. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


99 


"What  a  perfect  lady  she  is;  and  so  unsus- 
pecting! But  that  music  was  grand,  wasn't  it? 
That  is  the  food  I  was  raised  on ;  very  little 
else  I  have  heard  oil'  and  on  these  last  two  years  ; 
but  I  never  enjoyed  it  in  my  life  as  I  did  to- 
night. By  Jove !  here  in  the  heart  of  tiie  re- 
bellion, and  tlie  sincerest  of  rebels  playing  the 
accompaniment !  Did  you  ever  know  such  a 
joke?"  And  the  young  man  stretched  out  his 
legs  under  the  table,  threw  himself  back  in  tlic 
chair,  and  laughed  as  only  the  young  and  hap- 
py can  laugh. 

However,  for  her  life  Mrs.  Bowles  could  not 
sec  the  point  of  the  fun  next  morning.  She  felt 
condemned,  guilty.  And  then  passers-by  hav- 
ing stopjHjd,  horror-stricken,  to  hear  the  music, 
poor  Mrs.  Bowles  had  to  explain  and  exj)lain 
the  matter  for  weeks  after.  Most  annoying. 
But  when  Mrs.  Warner,  on  a  special  visit,  with 
upraised  eyebrows,  "really  could  not  believe  it, 
Madam.  Hail  Columbia,  Yankee  Doodle,  lied. 
White,  and  Blue,  Star-Spangled  Banner — all 
those  miserable  old  songs,  and  over  and  over 
again,  I'm  told.  Wh}-,  Mrs.  Bowles,  you  must 
have  heard  how  Alonzo  AVright,  only  a  month 
ago,  when  down  the  country  for  cotton,  shot  a 
man  dead,  dead  on  the  spot,  for  only  whistling 
Yankee  Doodle  thoughtless-like,  for  the  man 
was  a  good  Secessionist!" 

"Mrs.  Warner,"  interrupts  Mrs.  Bowles,  very 
(luietly,  but  with  all  South  Carolina  in  her  man- 
ner, "my  daughter  Alice  and  myself  and  our 
guests  play  and  sing,  and  do  now,  and  at  all 
times,  exactly  as  we  see  fit.  You  will  pardon 
me,  Madam ;  but  how  did  you  say  your  little 
Maria  is?     Well,  I  trust." 

So  that  nothing  is  left  Mrs.  W^arncr  but 
"Good-morning,  Madam!"  and  to  leave. 

"But,  Fairfax,  I'm  in  earnest  about  it,  in  the 
interest  of  Government  as  much  as  in  your  own, 
do  you  not  risk  too  much?"  urges  Dr.  Peel  there 
in  his  room  upon  his  young  friend. 

It  is  amazing  how  changed  is  the  Doctor's 
manner  with  the  Lieutenant  from  what  it  is 
with  Somerville ;  not  an  oath  hardly,  gentle  as 
a  lamb,  not  the  least  bit  of  a  bully  or  a  black- 
guard. Sumptuous  Dr.  Peel  is  a  totally  differ- 
ent Dr.  Peel  in  every  sense  from  what  Somer- 
ville has  known  him.  And  he  wears  a  business 
air,  too,  with  the  Lieutenant,  his  natural  self 
evidently. 

"Never  mind  about  mc.  Peel,  old  fellow!" 
says  his  friend,  gayly.  "The  only  way  to  cross 
rotten  ice  is  to  skate  your  swiftest.  You  have 
your  way  out  on  this  business;  I  must  follow  my 
way.  I  wonder  if  I  have  not  had  some  experi- 
ence by  this  time?  My  way  of  doing  matters 
has  carried  me  over  many  and  many  an  ugly 
j'lace — will  earry  me  over  many  an  uglier  yet. 
The  fact  is.  Peel,  I  wonder — by-the-by,  what 
your  name  really  is.  Never  mind  about  that. 
The  fact  is,  I'm  a  man  walking  the  edge  of  a 


precipice  :  over  a  scantling  laid  across  an  abyss : 
if  I  stop  to  look  down  I'm  lost  But  I'll  be  shot 
if  it  isn't  fun  alive,  the  wiiolc  thing.  1  alwavs 
had  a  genius  fur  fun — about  the  only  tniih  1  told 
Mrs.  Bowles  to-night.  There,  at  the  University 
of  Virginia,  we  fellows  used  to  think  we  knew 
what  fun  was.  I  rather  Hatter  myself  I  was  a 
kind  of  ringleader.  Smoking  the  Fresh ;  dev- 
iling the  Sojjhs;  putting  jjigs  up  the  belfry, 
tied  to  the  rope,  so  as  to  ring  at  it  all  night,  you 
observe ;  putting  tubs  of  cold  water  over  the  tu- 
tors' doors,  so  as  to  benefit  their  debilitated  sys- 
tems with  a  bath  as  they  came  out ;  dyeing  the 
professors'  dogs  and  horses  a  lovely  crimson — 
things  of  that  sort.  But  this  is  a  joke  ahead  of 
them,  I  rather  think.  As  to  the  danger,  that  is 
the  spice  of  the  whole  thing." 

"And  you  never  were  in  Charleston?" 

"Not  before  the  war;  often  since — on  busi- 
ness, you  observe,  confidential  and  excessively 
private.  Carolina,  with  a  jilague  on  the  heroic  lit- 
tle humbug,  cxcej)t  that,  I  was  never  in  it  in  my 
life.  Thank  you  for  your  hints  about  Kutledpe 
Bowles,  only  his  mother  gave  me  enougli  during 
the  first  five  minutes.  I  was  intimate  with  him, 
wasn't  I?     Splendid  fellow,  I  have  no  doubt.' 

"Ilis  proud  beauty  of  a  sister  was  too  much 
for  you,"  began  Dr.  Peel. 

"Glorious  girl,  isn't  she?"  broke  in  the  Lieu- 
tenant, with  enthusiasm.  "And  I'll  tell  you 
something.  Sir,  will  astonish  even  you.  That 
girl  is  Union,  Sir — Union  true  blue — Stars  and 
Stripes  to  tlie  centre !  You  needn't  whistle.  I 
ought  to  know  the  signs  by  this  time.  While 
you  were  telling  the  mother  that  preposterous 
story  about  your  acquaintance  with  Calhoun,  I 
gave  the  fair  damsel  a  full  trial,  just  to  be  cer- 
tain of  it.  I  couldn't  get  her  faintest  assent  to 
a  syllable  I  said  in  glorification  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, not  even  the  assent  of  her  eyes,  steady 
arriere  pens€e  there  the  whole  time.  It  was  to 
tease  her  as  much  as  any  thing  I  asked  her  to 
play  those  pieces.  A  Secessionist  might  do  that, 
refuse  as  she  did,  probably  would,  but  the  man- 
ner of  refusing !  And  with  her  brother  and  mo- 
ther so  dyed  in  the  wool.  Glorious  girl !  I  could 
have  hugged  her  on  the  spot  for  her  principles. 
But,  as  to  that,  how  any  woman  can  stand  Jeff 
Davis,  Secession,  war  for  slavery,  and  all,  is 
more  than  I  can  understand — blind  feeling." 

"Exactly  as  a  woman  clings  to  a  red-faced, 
foul-breathed,  roaring,  drunken  husband,  who 
curses  and  beats  her  and  the  children.  It  is  my 
husband,  you  see.  My  country !  The  delusion 
lies  just  there,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  with  a  sneer. 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  it  is  amazing  how  many  peo- 
ple I  find  all  over  the  South  who  continue  to 
know  what  their  countrv'  is,  cling  to  it,  too,  with 
all  their  souls.  By  Jove,  Sir,  I  honor  them," 
says  the  young  officer — "honor  them  more  than 
words  can  utter.  They  are  the  very  best  peo- 
ple, too,  of  the  places  where  they  live.     I  fall  in 


100 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


love  with  them  on  sight,  especially  when  they 
are  females.  I  often  meet  with  wrinkled,  tooth- 
le.ss  old  ladies.  You  see  they  know  ])eojjle  can 
not  well  hang  them,  so  they  can  speak  out  to 
their  heart's  content.  And  they  do.  I  have 
heard  them  abuse  Secession  even  to  my  satisfac- 
tion. I  could  have  taken  the  dear  old  things  in 
my  arms.  Whenever  I  chance  with  Union  peo- 
))le  oft'  by  themselves  you  can  not  tell  what  a  se- 
vere temptation  it  is  to  tell  them  a  little  some- 
thing. I  can  play  upon  them  as  a  girl  can  on 
a  piano ;  tell  them  tremendous  tales  of  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Confederacy  just  to  see  how  melan- 
choly they  get,  their  faces  growing  as  long  as 
your  arm  in  spite  of  themselves.  And  to  see 
liow  they  brighten  up  when  I  slip  in  a  little  good 
news  the  other  way!  They  do  not  believe  a 
word  of  it,  of  course ;  or  shake  their  heads  in 
such  a  melancholy  way,  their  eyes  sparkling. 
How  they  will  rejoice  when  the  old  flag  flies 
over  them  again,  and  all  the  air  bknvs  Hail  Co- 
lumbia! True  as  steel  they  are;  but  if  one 
could  only  tell  them  how  certain  the  thing  is ! 
However,  all  this  isn't  business,  and  I'm  off  in 
the  morning.  People  might  get  too  fond  of  me, 
you  know.  Lieutenant  Kavenel,  Confederate 
States  service — good!" 

"Well,  I  am  ready,"  said  Dr.  Peel,  produc- 
ing a  package  of  papers  from  his  bosom.  "  Not 
much  more  in  addition  to  what  we  have  attend- 
ed to  already.  But,  first,  there's  ii  receipt  for 
that  last  thousand  you  brought;  much  obliged 
to  Uncle  Sam  and  secret  service.  Now  then. 
Here's — let  me  see — ah,  yes,  a  statement  of  the 
rebel  forces  and  so  forth  in  my  district,  present 
and  prospective  sustenance,  and  so  on.  Tell 
them  they  may  rely  on  it ;  I  got  the  statement 
from  head-quarters  myself.  You  do  things  your 
way,  Lieutenant  Ravenel  of  South  Carolina,  but 
if  you  fancy  there  is  a  genuine  Southerner  of 
higher  standing  than  Dr.  Peel  in  all  this  district 
you  are  mistaken.  By-the-by,  here's  a  private 
letter.  Do  me  the  favor  to  leave  it  at  its  ad- 
dress in  New  York.  It  is  exchange  on  London 
for  five  thousand  pounds  to  my  credit,  you  know ; 
they'll  understand  it.  A  good  joke,  since  you 
like  jokes  so  well,  in  connection.  That  repre- 
sents a  cargo  of  cotton  safe  over  the  water  in 
payment  by  the  Confederacy  for  I  have  forgot- 
ten how  many  pounds  of  powder — " 

"Permit  me,  Dr.  Peel,"  interrupts  his  guest, 
with  a  total  change  of  manner.  "Do  I  under- 
stand— " 

"I  am  astonished  at  you,  Fairfax.  Don't 
you  see  that  the  article  was  manufactured  for 
this  express  purpose?  We  found  it  would  throw 
up  the  ball  in  the  metre  about,  say,  three  de- 
grees. The  standard  in  our  service  is  rather 
over  that,  I  think.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the 
proud  satisfaction  with  which  it  was  received. 
I  volunteered  to  see  to  the  stowing  of  it  away. 
Necessary   to  take   special   precautions  lest  it 


should  explode.  Explode !  And  there  it  is  at 
the  Arsenal  this  instant,  all  ready  in  case  of 
need." 

\      "But,"  began  the  delighted  Lieutenant,  "  how 
in  the  mischief —  ?" 

j  "Oil,  I  had  si)ecimens  plenty  for  trial,  Du- 
pont's  best.  The  Governor  shook  me  by  the 
hand  warmly.  '  Splendid  article,'  lie  said.  'You 
see  I'm  an  old  soldier,  and  ought  to  know,'  says 
he.  '  We  are  under  obligations  to  you,  Doctor.' 
I  rather  think  wooden  nutmegs  will  cease  to  be 
quoted  hereafter.  The  articles  in  the  way  of 
caps,  arms,  powder,  clothing,  every  thing  that 
Yankees  in  Havana,  France,  England,  Belgium, 
have  passed  oft'  for  genuine  cotton  upon  these 
poor  devils  is  shameful.  Not  Yankees  only.  It 
docs  seem  that  the  entire  world  has  consiiircd 
with  the  leaders  here  South  against  the  Soutli. 
I  am  glad  of  it  to  my  soul,"  adds  Dr.  Peel,  with 
a  savage  oath.  "That  is  what  I  like  most  in 
I  the  thing — the  cool,  deliberate,  thorough  suicide 
'  in  it  from  the  start.  Burned  towns,  railways  de- 
stroyed, wharves  leveled,  whole  regions  stripped 
bare,  to  say  nothing  of  the  killed  and  the  or- 
I  phans  and  widows.  Curse  on  them!"  continued 
Dr.  Peel,  with  a  torrent  of  curses,  all  his  soul  in 
his  bad  eyes — "no  man  can  hate  them  worse 
than  I  do,  and  even  I  am  almost  satisfied.  And 
then  all  that  is  yet  to  come !  I  am  more  than 
satisfied,  almost  beginning  toj)ity — perhaps,"  he 
adds,  with  the  expression  of  a  devil. 

"Hallo,  I  say,  look  here,  man,"  says  his  com- 
panion, looking  keenly  at  the  speaker.  "War 
is  war,  I  know,  and  these  peojile  would  force 
their  heads  in  the  cannon's  mouth.  But  I  don't 
believe  in  the  way  you  look  at  it.  Take  care 
what  you  say.  If  we  are  whipjiing  them  a  tough 
enough  job  they  are  giving  us  of  it,  all  our  num- 
bers and  navy  to  boot.  Besides,  I  am  a  South- 
ern man  myself,  every  drop  of  my  blood."  And 
the  gay  young  officer  had  changed  into  a  sharp 
observer  upon  Dr.  Peel.  "Besides,  you  talk  too 
loud.  How  do  you  knowbui;  there  maybe  some 
one  listening?  If  there  are,  up  we  go,  you  well 
know,"  added  he,  with  a  peculiar  gesture  of  his 
right  hand,  and  resuming  his  gay  manner. 

"  Never  fear,  I  know  what  I  am  about.  I'm 
too  anxious  to  live  if  it  is  only  to  see  the  delicious 
ending.  I  have  taken  every  precaution.  Be- 
sides, I  don't  believe  any  possible  event  could 
make  the  people  here  even  doubt  me.  The 
credulity,  the  super-astounding  gullibility  of 
these  people  is  one  long  treat  to  me.  I  do  love 
to  work  them  up,  and  have  them  yell  and  brag 
and  soar  to  heaven  in  glorification  of  the  South. 
Such  double-distilled  fools !"  says  Dr.  Peel,  melt- 
ing into  contempt,  and  so  becoming  cool  again. 
"  However,  business.  There,  that  paper  ex- 
plains itself — the  exact  date,  as  near  as  I  can  get 
it,  of  that  raid  to  be  made  into  Tennessee.  I 
think  I  have  been  tolerably  accurate  heretofore. 
There  is  another  paper — sealed,  you  see ;  private 


INSIDE.— A  CHUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


101 


even  from  you,  Fairfax.  Ah,  that  is  a  little  pe- 
tition of  some  friends  about  that  Ser(;;cant  lUil- 
din.  He  deserted  from  Grant — you  must  have 
heard  of  it— after  getting  himself  searified  on 
tiie  back  someway — something  like  it  in  one  of 
the  old  sieges  of  Babylon,  is  there  not  ?  It  was 
liis  information  gave  us  that  delieious  blunder 
of  the  rebels  below  Corinth.  The  Sergeant  died 
like  a  man.  You'll  find  the  address  of  his  fam- 
ily there.  Seward  ought  really  to  do  something 
handsome.  Ah,  here  is  that  list  of  the  Union 
nun  in  my  distriet  who  may  be  relied  upon  at 
Washington.  If  you  are  caught  destroy  that 
whatever  you  do;  if  it  gets  into  rebel  hands 
they'll  smell  out  the  cii)her,  and  in  that  case 
good-by  to  the  men.  That  would  bo  a  pity. 
There  arc  two  Juilges,  a  Secretary  of  State,  three 
Sujierintcndcnts  of  conscripts,  several  officers  in 
actual  service.  It  amazes  me,  Fairfax,  and  ev- 
ery day — pshaw!  no,  it  does  not  amaze  me. 
But  the  rotleuiicss  of  this  whole  thing!  Talk  of 
Southern  chivalry!  If  you  only  knew  as  well 
ns  I  do  the  frantic  eagerness  of  these  military 
men — not  civilians  mind  you,  but  the  officers, 
the  very  chivalry  itself,  to  make  money!  All 
that  is  a  thing,  of  course,  with  Yankees,  but  I 
did  think  there  would  be  at  least  that  dift'erence. 
AVhy,  Sir,"  adds  Dr.  Peel,  with  an  oath,  "there 
is  not  a  dodge  to  which  most  of  tliem  do  not  re- 
sort to  make  a  fortune  out  of  this  war." 

"  Laying  up  for  exile  and  confiscation,  man," 
gays  his  companion.  "And  as  their  paper  i)ay 
depreciates  they  will  be  more  desperate  in  the 
work  than  before." 

"And  to  do  the  South  justice,"  continues  Dr. 
reel,  with  something  like  a  sneer,  "even  you 
have  little  idea  how  very  many  Union  men  there 
are  South,  and  not  a  man  of  them  even  attempt- 
ing to  make  a  cent  out  of  the  war,  dumb,  dead 
weights  upon  the  rebellion  those  of  them  that 
escape  hanging."  The  Doctor  says  this  while  se- 
lecting another  paper  from  his  package.  "There," 
he  adds,  laying  it  upon  the  table,  "read  that, 
Sir ;  something  actually  done  for  the  cause  ;  the 
i\mount  of  stores  destroyed  is  rather  under  than 
over  the  mark." 

"Flouring  mills,  card  factory  burned;  ten 
powder  wagons  blown  up,  two  more  upset  in 
crossing  the  river — hum — hum  ;  train  of  mules 
run  off  from— hum— hum.  Why,  Doctor,  you 
are  the  verj- — steamer  £/iza  burned ;  thousand 
stand  of — six  pieces  small  cannon,  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  powder — hum,  hum;  machinery 
of  percussion  cap — " 

"That  was  really  a  shame,"  puts  in  the  Doc- 
tor, with  a  disi)lay  of  his  remarkably  fine  teeth. 
"If  you  only  knew  the  months  of  modeling, 
casting,  contriving  before  they  could  get  the 
thing  to  work.  Just  as  they  got  all  ready — I 
was  really  sorry  for  them,  such  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment. Reminds  me  of  a  little  thing  I  didn't 
xhink  worth  putting  down.    I  was  on  a  visit  over 


at  the  Penitentiary — a  distinguished  visitor,  yon 
observe.  The  C^)lonel  insisted  on  showing  me 
over  the  whole  establishment.  In  one  room  they 
had  an  iron  trough  filled  with  the  detonating 
mixture  for  caps.  Very  much  interested  I  was, 
so  much  so  as  to  visit  the  room  again  next  day ; 
had  a  handkerchief  full  of  lime  under  my  cloak, 
mill — if  those  caps  explnde  I'm  mistaken." 

"  Destruction  of  the  Arsenal  at  Jackson !"  says 
the  young  oflicer,  glancing  over  another  jinper 
placed  in  his  hands.      "You  don't  mean — " 

"Certaiidy,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  with  an  cfi'ort  at 
seriousness.  "The  women  and  children  I  re- 
gret as  much  as  any  man.  But  war  is  war,  and 
they  icou/d  have  it.  You  observe,  there  is  no 
neighborhood  in  all  the  South  in  which  one  can 
not  find  plenty  of  hands.  The  blacks  are  too 
dull  often,  but  the  mulattoes  are  smart  enough. 
Bless  your  soul,  you  don't  suppose  I  do  my  work 
with  my  own  hands?  No,  Sir,  not  if  I  can  help 
it;  besides,  what  is  the  use  when  I  have  so 
many  ready  for  any  hint  from  me.  You  could 
not  do  my  work ;  it  requires  a  peculiar  gift.  In 
one  month  I  could  lay  almost  every  town  in  my 
distriet  in  ashes  if  I  only  gave  the  word.  They 
are  sometimes  caught,  often  hung,  yet  they  nev- 
er divulge  any  thing — at  least,  never  any  thing 
to  hurt.  Miserable  animals  they  are,  of  course," 
adds  the  speaker  in  peculiar  tones.  "  Mere 
monkeys,  apes,  gorillas,  but  as  mischievous  as 
monkeys.  They  can  not  plan,  have  no  idea  of 
combination,  yet  they  can  do  what  is  planned 
for  them.  They  are  called  'hands,'  you  know. 
And  then  they  have  such  an  innocent,  ignorant, 
stujiid  look  with  it  all." 

"I  am  sick  of  the  whole  thing — sick,  sick," 
says  his  companion,  with  ill-concealed  loathing 
for  his  friend,  and  resting  his  face,  covered  with 
his  hands,  ui)on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"How  you  reason!"  said  Dr.  Peel,  towering 
above  the  Lieutenant,  bold  and  bad  as  Lucifer. 
"Forty  odd  blown  up  at  Jackson.  Why,  Fair- 
fax, those  people  had  already — women  and  chil- 
dren, mind — had  already  made  cartridges  enough 
to  have  killed  many  thousand  times  that  number 
of  our  men,  and  were  hard  at  it  still." 

"  IIow  do  we  know,  at  last,  but  you  are  hum- 
bugging us?"  says  the  Lieutenant,  glad  of  some 
mode  of  showing  his  aversion,  raising  his  head, 
and  looking  his  companion  defiantly  in  the  face. 
"Who  knows  but  you  take  the  credit  of  mere 
accidents?" 

"That  is  for  your  superiors  to  decide.  Sir," 
replies  Dr.  Peel,  even  haughtily.  "They  have 
had  no  occasion  to  doubt  me  so  far." 

"Oh,  well,  it  is  none  of  my  business,"  said 
his  companion,  hastily,  drawing  his  cap  down 
over  his  forehead.     " Let  us  get  through." 

"  Well,"  he  adds,  when  Dr.  Peel  has  handed 
in,  without  further  conversation,  his  last  report, 
"it  is  a  disagreeable  business.  I'd  rather  take 
it  out  in  open  field.     Y'et  few  men  in  the  field 


loe 


INSIDE.— A  CHROXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


are  as  useful  as  I  am — and  as  you  are,"  he  adds, 
with  some  hesitation.  "  Certainly  none  in  such 
danger." 

There  is  a  long  silence,  during  which  Dr.  Peel, 
business  over,  is  refreshing  himself  witli  a  cigar 
as  he  sits  at  ease  in  his  superb  dressing-gown, 
rocking  himself  in  the  best  rocking-chair  Joe 
Staples's  Hotel  affords.  The  Lieutenant,  mean- 
while, is  securing  the  pajiers  about  his  person. 

"Being  a  Yankee,"  he  begins,  as  if  suddenly 
impelled  into  conversation  by  some  new  motive. 
"I  beg  your  pardon.  Figuratively  a  Yankee, 
you  mean.  Y'ou  are  a  Virginian,  you  know," 
interrupts  Dr.  Peel,  holding  his  cigar  in  his  jew- 
eled hand,  and  emitting  a  long  puff  of  smoke 
from  his  lips. 

"  Tliere  is  nothing  very  wonderful  in  your 
knowing  that,"  rejjlies  the  other.  "Others  be- 
sides yourself  know  me  inside  our  lines.  No, 
what  I  was  about  saying  is  this  :  being  a  curious 
sort  of  man,  I  will  be  glad  if  you  will  tell  me  ex- 
actly what  prompts  you  to  your  well  known — I 
will  add  wonderful — zeal  and  energy.  I  don't 
think  I  am  an  idle  man  in  the  cause,  but  you 
leave  me  far  in  the  rear." 

"I  have  no  objection  to  tell  you,"  is  the  reply, 
"  provided  you  will  tell  me  why  you  are  so  active. 
I  won't  stop  to  be  complimentary." 

"Soon  told,"  answers  the  young  officer,  who 
has  entirtdy  resumed  his  light  and  dasliing  man- 
ner. "I  am  a  Southern  Union  man,  ten  times 
intenser  Union  than  any  of  those  Yankees  North 
can  be  if  they  tried,  because  it  is  my  native  South 
which  I'm  helping  to  rid  of  the  double  curse  of 
Secession  and — I  wouldn't  have  said  it  three 
years  ago,  I  do  say  it  now — slavery.  I  got  my 
devotion  to  the  Union  from  father  and  mother ; 
had  it  deepened  by  the  stand  I  took  for  it  at  the 
University ;  since  the  war  began  it  has  become 
my  very  life.  The  assassination  of  some  of  my 
dearest  friends  by  the  rebels,  the  death  of  my 
old  father,  and  the  destruction  of  the  old  place 
at  the  same  hands,  have  helped  matters ;  and  I 
have  an  old  mother — as  splendid  a  specimen  of 
a  Virginia  lady  as  ever  lived — living  at  Freder- 
icksburg, who  lays  her  hand  on  my  head  and 
blesses  me  in  my  work  whenever  I  see  her. 
Martha  Washington,  Sir,  over  again,"  adds  the 
officer,  with  enthusiasm.  "  Precious  little  I  care 
for  old  Lincoln.  In  fact,  I've  had  more  cold 
water  thrown  on  me  at  Washington  than  any 
where  else.  It  is  the  rescue  of  the  South  from 
tdat  wretched  old  Repudiator  and  his  gang,  and 
their  abominable  delusions  and  knaveries,  that 
I  fight  for.  You  know  all  about  the  Crusaders 
and  the  war  for  the  Holy  Land." 

"  But  why  engage  in  this  particular  sort  of 
service?" 

"  It  just  happened  so  :  At  the  opening  of  the 
war  a  particular  piece  of  information  had  to  be 
obtained  from  within  the  rebel  lines  for  a  very 
special  reason.     No  one  would  go  and  get  it ;  so 


I  had  to  do  it.    It  became  a  habit,  you  sec  ;  the 
excitement  of  the  thing,   the   success,  a  little 
praise  from  head-quarters,  and  all.     And  I  al- 
ways had    a   taste  for   masquerading — for  the 
joke's  sake.     Why,  Sir,  I've  passed  any  number 
of  times  for  Davis's  nephew ;  once  or  twice  as 
his  son — dangerous  work  that,  as  I  do  not  know 
whether  the  old  scoundrel  has  any  son  ;  but  ev- 
ery man  has  nephews,   you  know.      There  is 
hardly  a  prominent  officer  in  the  rebel  service 
whose  near  relative  I  have  not  been  somewhere 
in  my  travels.     I  am  a  native  of  every  State  of 
the  South,  hailing,  at  some  time  or  other,  from 
almost  every  leading  town  in  everj'  State  South. 
I  have  filled  almost  every  minor  office  under  the 
Confederate  Government ;  been  in  every  battle, 
without  exception.     Masquerading!    Why,  Sir, 
I've  passed  half  a  dozen  times  as  a  lovely  girl 
driven  from  my  home  in  Maryland,  Kentucky, 
Nashville.     I    have  been  the  belle  of  balls  in 
Richmond  and  Charleston !     You  would   have 
died  of  laughing  to  see  me  managing  my  crino- 
line and  tossing  my  curls  !     By  Jove,  I  can  han- 
dle a  fan  and  a  parasol  so  well,  at  times  I  almost 
get  to  believe  I  am  a  woman,  and  not  so  ugly  a 
one  either  I     I  have  had  love  made  to  me  by  any 
number  of  military  men  ;  have  been  so  enthusi- 
astic for  the  cause ;  have  had  so  many  charming 
little   ways — 'Now,   do    tell    me.    General  I' — 
'  Please,  Colonel,  how  many  men  have  we  got 
here  ?'  and  so  on — that  I've  got  more  informa- 
tion than  I  dared  hope  for.     But  I've  no  time 
to  talk.     Isn't  that  the  morning  breaking?" 

And  the  young  officer  rose  from  his  chair, 
washed  his  face  at  Dr.  Peel's  wash-stand,  combed 
his  hair  before  the  glass,  and  sauntered  about 
the  room  as  fresh  as  if  he  had  just  risen  from  a 
full  night's  sleep. 

"Four  o'clock,"  he  added,  at  last,  consult- 
ing his  watch,  "and  the  stage  leaves  at  half 
past.  Have  up  that  breakfast.  Doctor,  you 
promised.  I  have  already  settled  my  bill — no- 
thing to  do  but  to  eat  and  leave." 

That  Dr.  Peel  was  a  Power  at  the  hotel  was 
evidenced  in  the  rapid  manner  in  which  a  hot 
breakfast  was  served  up  in  answer  to  his  call  to 
that  effect  down  the  stairs.  The  very  counte- 
nance of  the  mulatto  who  waited  on  them  with 
it  would  have  indicated  to  a  close  observer  that 
Dr.  Peel  wielded  some  unusual  influence  over 
him  at  least. 

"  You  said  you  were  in  London,  I  think," 

said  the  Lieutenant,  who,  declining  to  sit  down, 

stood  beside  the  table  eating.     "I  don't  expect 

I  any  sympathy  from  you,  but  did  you  notice  the 

tomb  of  Andre'  in  Westminster  Abbey  ?" 

"There  were  really  so  many  objects  of  inter- 
est—" 

"  Well,  I  did.  My  father  took  me  over  when 
I  was  a  boy ;  told  me  the  whole  story  as  we  stood 
looking  at  it.  I  was  fascinated.  I  suppose 
there  may  be  some  similarity  in  our  dispositions 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


108 


— not  our  fates,  however,  I  hope.     There  was  a  i 
gort  of  hanini-sciirumness ;  a  iliu»hiii<»  mixture' 
of  Achilles  and — by-lhe-by,'  what  a  fellow  Acliil-  , 
les  was  for  a  inasqiieraile  I     I  never  tliDiijiht  of  ' 
it  before!     Months,  you  renieniber,  in  clisjjuisc  \ 
at  the  court  of  Kin^  Soinetliin^-or-other  !     Isn't 
that  the  stage  coming  up  the  street?    And  I  had 
almost  forgot.     What  is  your  motive?"  said  the 
Lieutenant,  nuiking  a  rapid  finish  of  his  meal, 
snap|>iiig  together  the  lids  of  his  valise,  putting 
on  his  cap.     "I'm  all  ready  to  bo  oft" — what  is 
it?" 

"  None  of  the  motives  you  speak  of,"  said  Dr. 
Peel,  prim  and  sullen,  behind  the  coftee-pot. 
"  I  don't  object  to  the  pay ;  it  is  to  me  an  easy 
life;  some  other  reasons,  jierhaps.  But  the  chief 
reason,"  he  added,  suddenly,  "is  hate." 

"  Hate  ?"  Lieutenant  Uavcncl  of  South  Car- 
olina weighs  the  words  as  he  draws  on  his  beau- 
tifully-embroidered gloves,  looking  keenly  in  his 
companion's  face.     "Hate?" 

Few  men  sharper  than  Dr.  Peel.  "I  would 
not  have  printed  all  that  wild  young  scamp  told 
you,"  he  had  said  to  Lamiun  after  the  issue  of 
the  Slar  containing  the  Lieutenant's  informa- 
tion. "Lamum  was  wrong  to  do  it,"  he  re- 
marked to  Somerville  generally.  "  Chaps  like 
Havenel  are  fond  of  exaggerating,  making  a 
great  blow.  Take  my  word  for  it,  you'll  find 
half  he  has  been  telling  us  is  all  a  lie."  With 
a  tremendous  oath,  ''I  don't  know  but  what  his 
very  letters  of  introduction  to  me  were  all  a  forg- 
ery!" Yes,  very  smart,  indeed,  was  impetuous 
and  magniloquent  Dr.  Peel. 

Not  sharper  than  young  Fairfax.  As  that 
gentleman  stands  drawing  on  his  gloves  and 
looking  steadily  at  his  friend  seated  before  him, 
the  stage  horn  blows  a  second  time,  and  with  it 
the  negro  hostler  comes  into  the  room  for  the 
Lieutenant's  valise,  and  "  Mass  Bill  Perkins  say, 
come  or  be  left." 

"You  told  me  to  take  care  I  didn't  carry  it 
too  {at.  You  had  better  take  particular  care 
yourself.  Dr.  Peel,"  such  singular  meaning  in 
the  speaker's  tones.  "  Upon  my  soul,  I  can 
hardly  blame  you ;  the  times  whirl  so  fast  I 
hardly  know  how  to  think  or  feel;  but,  fact  is, 
I  have  found  you  out,  Doctor." 

One  can  make  nothing  of  the  Lieutenant's 
countenance,  the  expression  is  so  strange. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  asks  Dr.  Peel, 
at  last,  but  by  no  means  the  Dr.  Peel  he  was  up 
to  that  instant. 

"Oh,  pshaw!  I  know  it.     You  are  ;" 

and  he  places  his  lips  to  the  Doctor's  ear  to  say 
it.  Not  over  half  a  dozen  letters  to  the  word, 
yet  grand  Dr.  Peel  falls  back  from  the  whisper 
as  if  struck  by  a  bludgeon,  and  his  lively  young 
friend  is  gone. 


MKS.  SOREL'S   OOMFOET. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mrs.  Dr.  Warner  had  remarked  to  her  hus- 
band only  yesterdiiy:  "Dr.  Warner,  ivill  you 
tell  me  what  we  are  coming  to?  Flour  forty 
dollars  a  barrel,  sugar  four  pounds  for  a  dollar, 
salt  twelve  cents,  coft'ee  one  dollar,  molasses  two 
dollars  and  a  half,  lard  forty  cents,  chickens  fifty 
cents,  eggs  one  dollar,  butter  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter — those  fiendish  Yankees !  And  not  a 
calico  in  town  under  a  dollar  a  yard,  domestics 
a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  shoes  ten  dollars,  a  pa- 
per of  pins  five  dollars !  If  I  only  had  all  the 
Yankees  right  in  front  of  a  cannon — Lincoln  and 
all — loaded  to  the  muzzle,  and  could  shoot  that 
cannon  off,  I  could  die  happy.  And  there's 
snuff,  not  a  grain  of  it  to  be  had  I" 

Mrs.  Warner  stopped;  words  failed  to  express 
her  indignation.  In  fact  the  English  language 
had  long  since  been  used  up  by  Mrs.  Warner. 
Its  very  strongest  words  had  been  hurled  by  her 
so  long  and  so  continually  upon  the  heads  of 
the  invaders  that  they  had  become  insi])id  and 
meaningless  to  her.  It  is  weeks  now  since  she 
has  first  remarked  that,  if  she  but  could  do  so, 
she  would  with  her  own  hands  send  the  North 
into  atoms  so  small  that  Omniscience  itself  should 
never  find  them,  nor  Omnipotence  itself  put  them 
together  if  found. 

From  Colonel  Ret  Roberts's  last  speech  that 
was;  but  even  that  had  become  language  too 
feeble  to  express  her  loathing  and  abhorrence. 
Having  said  fifty  times  a  day  that  the  Yankees 


104 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


were  worse  than  devils,  and  that  even  hell  was 
a  j)unishment  too  liglit  for  them — said  this  in  all 
possible  inflections  of  the  idea,  what  else  could 
be  said  ?  Even  Mrs.  Warner  was  conscious  of  a 
sense  of  exhaustion. 

As  to  the  Doctor,  what  had  he  to  do  but 
to  be  as  little  at  iiome  as  possible,  jiut  in 
some  word  of  flattery  whenever  his  conscience 
and  a  lull  in  tlie  storm  ]>crniittcd,  and  so  en- 
dure? The  Doctor  aj^rced  in  all  the  fuliniiia- 
tions  of  his  wife  upon  those  who  had  brought 
about  the  ruin  of  the  country,  with  this  slight 
difference  only — that  the  Naiitippc  of  liis  bosom 
located  these  authors  in  Washington,  and  he 
located  them  in  a  somewhat  lower  latitude. 
Wiien  the  infinite  diversity  of  sentiment  be- 
tween the  Secessionists  and  the  Union  people  at 
the  South  during  the  war  is  considered,  the  won- 
der is,  not  at  the  alienation  that  existed  there 
on  that  account,  but  rather  that  no  greater  ex- 
jilosion  followed.  But  then  there  was  on  the 
]iart  of  the  Union  people  an  amazing  amount 
of — what  is  the  softest  possible  word  for  dissem- 
bling?— and  a  still  more  astonishing  degree  of 
silence.  And  there  was  an  ominous  meaning  in 
that  very  silence,  taken  in  connection  with  the 
class  character  of  the  Union  people,  hitherto  and 
in  all  other  matters,  for  forecast  and  prudence, 
which  disquieted  their  Secessionist  acquaint- 
ances exceedingly. 

There  is  Mrs.  Sorel.  The  times  bring  many 
troubles  to  her  besides  the  absence  of  her  son  at 
the  war.  She  goes  out  very  little  these  days. 
None  of  the  Union  people  do  so  any  more  than 
they  can  help.  But  she  meets,  as  all  Union 
jjcople  do,  with  coldness,  sometimes  actual  de- 
nunciation, in  company  when  she  does  enter  it. 
Often  is  she  under  the  necessity  of  entering  the 
small  room  adjoining  her  chamber,  where  is  little 
furniture  beyond  a  chair  and  a  table  with  a  Bi- 
ble upon  it;  oftener  than  of  old,  and  she  re- 
mains there  longer  in  these  days.  Yet  she  al- 
ways comes  out  from  it  calmer  and  in  happier 
mood,  if  possible,  than  even  in  her  palmiest  days 
of  yore.  Nothing  can  be  more  j)lacid  than  the 
conversations  she  and  Edward  Arthur,  her  guest, 
hold  across  the  neat  little  table  at  breakfast,  din- 
ner, and  supper ;  for  Mr.  Arthur  is  rarely  away 
from  home  in  these  days  any  more  than  Mrs. 
Sorel.  Mrs.  Sorel  has  even  to  remonstrate  with 
her  guest  upon  his  confining  himself  too  closely 
to  his  studies. 

The  truth  is,  in  the  absence  of  the  papers,  re- 
views, and  new  publications  of  all  sorts  in  which 
he  once  delighted,  Mr.  Arthur  has  taken  to  the 
old  English  divines  in  his  library,  volumes  yel- 
low with  years  and  near  a  yard  long,  for  which 
he  has  hitherto  found  little  time.  Into  these 
volumes,  as  into  pools  pure  and  deep,  he  plunges 
over  head  and  ears,  and  so  forgets  the  times  and 
himself.  Nor  are  these  the  only  pools  into  which 
he  plunges.     Every  morning,  to  keep  as  fresh 


and  as  strong  as  possible,  he  is  np  and  away  on 
his  horse  to  a  creek  miles  ofl'  in  the  dense  for- 
est, into  which  he  goes  headlong,  to  return  by 
the  time  the  sun  is  up,  glowing  with  his  bath 
and  the  exercise,  hoi>eful  of  happy  days  beyond 
Secession,  hungry  for  his  breakfast  and  for  his 
studies  afterward.  A  little  Virgil  occasionally; 
periodic  Greek  Testament  likewise;  and  He- 
brew also,  straying  away  in  its  elejihant  tracks 
far  away  from  Secession,  across  Canaan,  through 
the  rocky  gaps  of  Sinai  and  Iloreb,  and  on  to- 
ward Abraham  and  the  Creation. 

What  with  these,  the  Old  Divines,  and  his  ex- 
ercise, he  is  preparing  sermons  having  more  of 
the  pith  and  essence  of  the  Gospel  in  them, 
leagues  away  while  so  engaged  from  Secession 
and  civil  war.  It  may  be  only  his  imagination, 
but  he  has  an  impression  that  he  is  just  now  in 
special  training  for  a  work  after  Secession  is 
over — some  great  work  in  which  he  is  to  accom- 
]ilish  more  than  he  has  ever  dreamed  of  so  far. 
At  any  rate  he  will  jirejiarc  himself  as  thorough- 
ly as  possible. 

Here  is  a  morning,  some  weeks  after  his  last 
conversation  with  Mr.  Ferguson,  when  the  gallop 
and  the  bath  before  breakfast  do  not  quite  suf- 
fice. It  is  in  vain  after  breakfast  that,  after 
getting  through  his  lessons  with  Kobby,  he  es- 
says the  folio  of  theolog)'.  It  may  be  a  deep 
pool  at  other  times,  but  this  morning  it  seems  a 
frozen  one.  lie  can  not  penetrate  beneath,  but 
slips  and  falls  continually  on  the  page  as  on  a 
surface  of  ice. 

On  account  of  the  bells  last  night !  Even 
from  Mrs.  Sorel's,  three  miles  away,  he  could 
hear  the  great  rejoicing  in  Somerville — all  the 
bells,  all  the  cannon,  all  the  smaller  arms.  lie 
woke  at  midnight  with  the  first  stroke  of  the 
Methodist  bell,  by  far  the  largest  in  Somerville. 
"If  Providence  is  willing,  I  am,"  he  said  to  him- 
self in  the  act  of  awaking;  but  there  was  no 
more  sleep  for  him  that  night. 

Somerville  has  been  quite  despondent  of  late, 
and  the  reaction  of  joy  over  victory  is  immense. 
Colonel  Juggins  has  a  negro  boy  over  at  Mrs. 
Sorel's  with  the  paper  long  before  breakfast. 
Mr.  Arthur  has  read  it  to  Mrs.  Sorel  at  that 
meal.  Cause  for  rejoicing,  indeed  !  There  have 
been  a  series  of  battles  near  Richmond  lasting 
several  days.  M'Clellan  has  been  captured,  with 
his  entire  army !  The  gun-boats  have  managed 
to  escape  down  James  River,  but  that  is  all: 
60  generals,  140  captains,  30, 000  Federals  killed, 
80,000 captured;  stores,  batteries, colors  without 
computation !  The  war  is  virtually  over !  Col- 
onel Juggins  comes  along  after  breakfast. 

"Of  that  vast  army,  ma'am,"  he  says  to  Mrs. 
Sorel,  "Bill  Perkins  was  saying  last  night  only 
75  privates  made  their  escape,  and  at  last. ac- 
counts our  army  was  in  full  pursuit  of  them !" 
And  Colonel  Juggins,  brimmed  with  enthusi- 
asm, insists  on  reading  over  aloud  the  whole  pa- 


INSIDE.— A  CIIllOXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


105 


per  from  end  to  end  to  quiet  Mre.  Sorel  wnsliing 
up  tlie  breakfast  things. 

No,  Edward  Arthur  tan  not  pet  into  tlie  mer- 
its of  the  folio  this  morning.  He  evades  Colonel 
Juggins,  goes  to  the  stable,  saddles  and  mounts 
his  horse,  and  rides  slowly  away  he  docs  not 
care  whither.  It  runs  like  a  ditty  in  his  mind 
over  and  over  again — "  W  Providence  is  willing, 
I  am  I''  Odd  passages  of  Serijiturc  come  to  the 
surface,  in  his  memory,  of  themselves — "  'His 
ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  neither  are  His 
thouglits  as  our  thoughts.  He  doeth  according 
to  His  will  in  the  armies  of  heaven  and  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.     None  can  stay 

His  hand,  or  say  what  doest  thou '     And 

yet  if  Secession  rouUl  but  have  been  put  down ! 
One  country  again ;  one  flag  again ;  universal 
'amnesty;  peace  and  ])rosperify  again,  firmer, 
greater  than  before!"  His  mind  rims  over  it 
all  as  it  is :  "  The  success  of  the  great  Wrong  ! 
The  triumph  of  wicked  men !  Anarchy  vic- 
torious North  and  South !  And  is  it  possible, 
after  all,  that  such  men  as  Lamum,  Roberts, 
Barker,  and  the  long  tail  of  Captain  Simmons, 
Bob  'Withers,  Tim  Lamum,  and  the  like  are 
right?  Bight?  Pleasing  to  God?  And  all 
who  think  uidike  them  are  wrong?  their  opin- 
ions displeasing  to  Heaven,  and  now  justly  re- 
buked?" It  was  partly  broken  rest  the  night 
past,  but  Edward  Arthur  felt  as  he  rode  along 
as  if  the  very  foundations  of  reason  and  religion 
were  out  of  course. 

The  seven  days  of  Chickahominy  were  days 
of  disaster  to  you  loyal  hearts  at  the  North,  were 
they?  Believe  it,  your  deepest  feelings  in  re- 
gard thereto  wore  but,  in  the  piirase  of  old  Cer- 
vantes, "as  cheese-cakes  and  cream-tarts"  to 
the  agony  of  hope  deferred,  nigh  destroyed,  in 
the  bosoms  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  us  at  the 
South,  loving  our  common  country  as  much  as 
you.  As  much  as  you?  Far  more.  Though 
trembling  lest  )-ou  should  lose  it,  you  still  pos- 
sessed it.  We  at  the  South,  actually  stripped 
of  all  we  loved,  of  flag  and  country,  were  yearn- 
ing for  their  return.  In  the  great  wreck  com- 
mon to  both,  you  were  as  those  of  the  wrecked 
still  holding  on  to  the  floating  fragments,  though 
they  seemed  slipping  from  your  grasp  ;  we  were 
as  those  drowning  without  even  that,  praying 
and  clutching — ah,  bow  desperately  ! — amidst 
the  roaring  foam. 

It  is  raining  heavily,  and  the  rider  looks 
around  to  find  that  his  horse  has  stoi)ped  of  its  j 
own  accord  under  the  roof  of  an  old  gin.  He 
has  been  there  before  in  his  excursions.  The  gin 
is  an  abandoned  one  in  the  centre  of  a  tract  of 
land,  which  the  furrows,  nearly  leveled  by  the 
rains  to  a  plain,  and  a  fragment  of  an  old  rail 
here  and  there,  show  to  have  been  once  culti-  I 
vated.  There  is  the  screw,  too,  hard  by,  its 
long  levers,  with  their  little  cap  of  a  roof,  idle 
evidently  this  many  a  day.     The  pit  beneath  is  ■ 


caved  in.  There  are  scraps  of  rope,  shreds  of 
bagging,  great  piles  of  cotton  seed  blue  and 
steaming  in  the  rain  around.  Yes,  many  a  bale 
of  cotton  has  buen  ))lanted  and  gathered  and 
ginned  and  pressed  and  wagoned  away  from 
this  deserted  spot.  Edward  Arthur  is  in  full 
sympathy  with  the  scene  this  morning;  how- 
much  better  to  be  there  just  now  than  in  the 
hotel  in  Somerville,  or  even  at  Mrs.  Sorel's. 
As  he  alights  from  and  ties  his  horse  to  one  of 
the  huge  posts  which  suj)port  the  ujjper  room  of 
the  gin-house,  the  under  story  being  open  all 
around,  he  is  glad  he  has  not  to  converse  with 
even  Guy  Brooks  this  morning.  Mr.  Ferguson, 
too — he  knows  that  the  Scotchman  is  that  in- 
stant in  his  rcjom  there  in  Somerville  contem- 
plating the  blazing  disi)atch  which  he  has  just 
filed  in  its  place  in  his  ))onderous  scrap-book. 
There  is  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  the  young 
minister's  mind  as  he  sees,  in  imagination,  the 
peculiar  expression  which  is  that  very  instant 
tinging,  so  to  speak,  the  very  tips  of  the  Scotch- 
man's grizzly  beard. 

But  he  is  to  have  company  at  last.  There  is 
a  gallojjing  of  a  horse  across  the  old  field.  It  is 
a  lady ;  she  rides  her  pony  in  under  the  pro- 
tecting roof,  and  is  ofl^"  and  shaking  the  drops 
from  her  riding-skirt  before  lie  can  get  to  her 
assistance.  She  raises  her  head  as  he  approach- 
es. Of  all  persons  on  earth  it  is  the  person  whom 
he  would  most  desire  to  meet  just  there  and  then. 
Of  all  persons  on  earth  it  is  just  the  person  whom 
he  would  there  and  then  most  ardently  desire 
not  to  meet. 

It  may  be  owing  to  the  fact  that  we  have 
double  lobes  to  the  brain  and  a  double  set  of  or- 
gans to  the  heart ;  but  certain  it  is  a  man  may 
have  in  brain  and  heart,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment too,  a  double  set  of  thoughts  and  emotions 
— double  and  strong,  and  in  exact  conflict  with 
each  other.  And  it  is  with  a  man  in  such  a  case 
as  it  is  with  a  steamer,  say,  when  the  engine  on 
its  one  side  is  propelling,  with  the  engine  on  its 
other  side  backing.  Round  and  round,  morally 
speaking,  goes  the  individual,  but  not  an  inch 
does  he  advance  either  down  stream  or  up  cur- 
rent. At  least  Mr.  Arthur  certainly  had,  at  this 
moment,  just  such  speed. 

But  who  can  venture  to  assert  what  her  opin- 
ion of  the  chance  meeting  in  that  lonely  sjjot 
was?  If  j-ou  gather  any  thing  from  her  blush 
on  first  perceiving  her  companion,  what  are  yon 
to  gather  from  the  pallor  which,  the  moment 
after,  left  her  face  in  such  striking  contrast  with 
the  black  velvet  cap  upon  her  head,  and  the 
black  plume  which  drooped,  heavy  with  rain, 
down  to  her  cheek  ?  Prompt  enough  to  sjjcak, 
however : 

"All  my  fault,  Mr.  Arthur!"  she  said,  payly. 
"I  have  been  spending  a  few  days  with  Anne 
Wright,  an  old  school-fellow.  I  determined  to 
ride  home   this   morning,   come   what   might 


100 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Anne  told  me  it  would  rain,  but  I  thought  pony 
would  get  me  home  first.  Mr.  Wright  is  in  Som- 
erville  ;  the  hands  were  off  in  the  fields  with  the 
horses,  so  I  had  to  come  alone.  I  deserve  it  for 
starting.  But  I  icill  have  my  way,  mamma 
says.     IIow  came  you  here?" 

Mr.  Arthur  has  but  a  disjointed  reply  to 
make.  Disjointed,  because  he  has  no  reason  for 
liaving  ridden  there  at  all.  And  because  she  is 
so  beautiful — ah!  how  beautiful !  He  has  not 
seen  her,  to  convei-se  with  her,  for  many  weeks 
now;  and  she  has  changed  so!  It  is  all  in  the 
sex.  Boys  do  not  ciiange  so.  The  youth  of 
eighteen  is  very  much  the  individual  he  was  at 
sixteen,  only  taller — nu  coming  out  of  any  chr)s- 
alis  with  Itiin. 

Bat  here  is  Alice  Bowles.  When  Edward 
Arthur  removed  to  Mrs.  Sorel's  Alice  was  but  a 
girl  —  a  lovely  girl,  but  only  a  girl,  although 
Mr.  Neely  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  her  so  oft- 
en. But  to-day  Alice  Bowles  alights  from  her 
])ony  in  the  old  gin  a  woman.  Her  face  is  full, 
and  her  ruddy  lip,  and  clear  eye,  and  gentle  yet 
firm  expression,  is  that  of  a  woman — no  longer 
a  girl.  She  always  bore  herself  in  that  erect 
and  imperial  manner — a  something  about  the 
white  brow  as  if  made  for  a  crown — a  bend  about 
the  neck  as  of  Marie  Antoinette  among  tlie  sans 
culottes.  Before,  it  was  a  manner  that  went 
and  came  with  her  varying  moods ;  but  to-day 
it  is  herself.  It  may  be  the  ])lumcd  riding-cap 
she  wears;  it  may  be  her  long  riding-dress,  which 
brought  up  vague  memories  of  grand  ladies  in 
their  trains  at  court ;  it  may  be  it  was  in  the  ex- 
citement of  her  rapid  ride  causing  her  face  to 
glow  so ;  it  may  be  the  contrast  between  the 
young  beauty  and  the  littered  earth  on  which 
she  stood  and  the  dilapidation  around  her ;  or 
maybe  it  was  her  sudden  advent  through  the 
dreary  morning,  and  upon  him  in  a  mood  as 
dreary;  but,  whatever  was  the  reason,  she  came 
upon  him  there  very  little  else  to  him  than  an 
angel  from  heaven.  Had  he  not  loved  her  at 
first  sight,  years  ago,  when  she  was  only  the 
bud  of  what  bad  now  opened  into  the  perfect 
rose? 

There  was  one  advantage  he  had  over  her. 
He  had  not  come  upon  her  in  her  retreat  there, 
in  the  out-of-the-way  old  gin,  but  she  had  come 
upon  him ;  and,  somehow,  from  the  first  he  had 
yielded  to  her  the  burden  of  the  conversation. 
His  first  look  as  he  met  her  had  said  so  much 
that  he  felt,  and  she  felt,  he  had  little  more  to 
add.  Ah!  how  she  talked,  in  order  to  keep 
from  hearing  or  saying  any  thing  ! — cutting  with 
her  riding-whip  at  the  shreds  of  cotton  on  the 
ground,  shaking  the  drops  of  rain  from  her  rid- 
ing skirt,  smoothing  her  already  smooth  hair  on 
each  side  of  her  brow. 

"  And  oh,  Mr.  Arthur,  I  nearly  forgot.  What 
is  the  news?"  she  suddenly  asked,  after  all  oth- 
er topics  were  exhausted.     "Anne  and  I  could 


hear  the  noise  all  the  way  to  Mr.  Wright's. 
What  great  and  glorious  Something  has  hap- 
pened this  time  ?"  And  she  entered  on  the  topic 
with  a  sense  of  indefinable  pain,  and  yet  of  in- 
definable pleasure  too. 

Mr.  Arthur  related  the  contents  of  the  dis- 
patches. Quite  accurately,  too,  which  was  a 
wonder  in  tiiose  days.  As  a  general  rule  it  was 
a  thing  impossible,  quite  impossible,  to  do  then. 
A  man  might  try  to  tell  his  eager  neighbor  the 
contents  of  the  last  dispatch  the  moment  he  laid 
it  down,  but  he  never  cotild  repeat  it  accurately. 
If  he  was  a  Union  man  his  version  was  far  more 
unfavorable  to  the  Confederacy  than  at  least  the 
printed  lines  warranted.  If  he  was  a  Secession- 
ist the  news  he  repeated  from  the  paper  was 
much  more  encouraging  for  the  Confederacy 
than  even  the  largest  cajutals  of  the  sheet  just  in 
his  hands  would  justify. 

"I  need  not  ask  your  opinion  of  the  news," 
said  his  companion,  more  thoughtfully.  "I 
presume  you  will  say  of  it,  as  you  did  of  the 
news  from  Shiloh — it  is  partly  true  and  partly 
fidse.  And  you  were  right.  But  it  is  a  jiity 
one  can  not  believe  the  whole  of  a  matter  from 
the  first,  and  with  all  the  heart.  One  could  en- 
joy one's  self  so !" 

"You  have  no  apprehension  about  your  broth- 
er—?" 

"  Oh  no !"  interrnpted  his  companion.  "  Did 
not  mamma  show  you — ah  !  I  forgot  at  the  mo- 
ment that  you  do  not  live  with  us  now.  No ; 
mamma  received  a  letter  from  him  only  ten  days 
ago.  He  is  in  Charleston — under  aiTcst,  I  am 
soiTy  to  say.  There  was  some  Mississippian  or 
Georgian  put  over  him  in  rank.  Very  foolisiily 
he  neglected  to  obey  some  order,  something  of 
the  kind,  I  do  not  exactly  understand  it.  At 
any  rate,  Rutledge — Rutledge  Bowles,  as  mam- 
ma always  persists  in  calling  him — is  under  ar- 
rest in  Charleston.  Since  Rutledge  can  not 
bring  himself  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  his 
superiors,  it  is  a  great  pity  they  can  not  make  it 
a  rule  to  comply  with  his.  At  least  mamma  al- 
most says  so,"  added  Alice,  with  a  good  deal  of 
demure  fun  at  the  corners  of  her  rosy  mouth. 

Her  eyes  being  intent  on  the  particular  shred 
of  cotton  she  was  switching  at  with  her  riding- 
whip  upon  the  ground,  Mr.  Arthur  had  an  op- 
portunity of  looking  at  her.  Poor  young  fellow  ! 
she  was  so  beautiful ;  so  full  of  life  and  grace ! 
And  Secession  has  put  them  as  far  apart — not 
as  the  East  is  from  the  West ;  that  similitude  is 
obsolete  in  these  days — but  as  far  ajiart  from 
each  other  as  the  North  is  froih  the  South. 

"You  know  I  have  never  seen  your  brother," 
said  her  companion,  seeing  at  the  moment  with 
great  satisfaction  that  the  rain  was  beginning  to 
fall  heavier  than  ever.  "But  is  there  not-^?" 
and  in  his  half  hesitation  Alice  hastened  to  fin- 
ish the  question  for  him. 

"  A  strong  resemblance  between  Rutledge  and 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


107 


myself?  In  character,  yes,  I  dare  say  there  is. 
We  are  both  of  us  altogether  too  impatient  of 
control — too  much  in  the  habit  of  liiivinj;  our 
own  way.  It  is  a  drcatlful  defect  of  cluinu'tcr, 
Mr.  Arthur,"  she  said,  looking  up  only  for  an 
instant  at  him,  and  then  resuming  her  chastise- 
ment, tiiou^h  it  was  at  least  "an  inch"  of  "a 
king,"  of  the  unfortunate  piece  of  cotton  ;  "but 
I  do  not  sec  how  either  Kutledgc  or  myself  arc 
to  blame  for  it.  We  inherited  it  from  our  fa- 
ther, who  was  celebrated  for  his  fixedness — if 
there  is  such  a  word — of  opinion  ;  and  we  have 
been  trained  to  it  from  our  cradles.  If  pa  had 
only  lived  it  would  have  been  far  better  for  us 
both  ;  but  you  know  how  indulgent  mamma  is." 

"  1  for  one  would  not  have  you  otherwise  than 
ns  you  arc  for  the  world,"  Mr.  Arthur  said,  em- 
phatically— only  it  was  to  himself,  not  a  syllable 
of  it  reacliiug  his  lips.  And  yet  she  knew  as 
well,  in  the  silence  which  followed  her  remark, 
that  he  was  saying  just  that  as  if  he  had  said  it 
aloud. 

"Only  to  think,"  she  hastily  added,  therefore, 
"of  the  thousands  of  brave  men  that  must  have 
been  killed  ;  that  is,  if  there  really  was  any  fight- 
ing at  all  in  Virginia." 

"And  of  the  many  thousands  that  are  yet  to 
die  in  hospital  and  upon  battle-field  before  this 
war  is  over,'"  added  her  companion.  "  Wc  read 
of  Koncesvalles  and  Fontenoy,  and  the  gallant 
knights  dying  at  Chevy  Chase,  and  all.  Yet 
the  simple  truth  is,  old  Froissart,  whom  you  re- 
member we  read  together  last  summer,  tells  of 
no  brave  gentlemen  nobler  or  braver  in  every 
sense  of  the  word  than  our  Southern  soldiers. 
Chivalry  boasts  of  nothing  which  the  South  is 
not  equaling  every  day,  and  every  hour  of  the 
day." 

"  But  we  of  the  South  deserve  and  wear  the 
name  of  Chivalry,  Mr.  Arthur,  only  too  well," 
said  Alice,  after  a  pause.  "I  wish  I  could  not 
think  of  it  as  I  do ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  we 
seem  to  be  as  antiquated  as  Chivalry  is,  too.  As 
to  the  nobleness,  generosity,  courtesy,  and  valor 
of  our  araiies,  I  suppose  all  the  world  is  agreed  ; 
but,  with  all  that,  I  can  not  help  having  a  vague 
but  painful  sense  that  we  are  classed  by  Europe 
with  Sjjain,  behind  the  age.  If  one  half  of  the 
feeling  of  the  world  in  regard  to  us  is  admir- 
ation, the  other  half  of  that  feeling  is  pity.  I 
am  afraid  it  is  owing  to  some  book  or  other 
which  I  should  never  have  read ;  or  it  may  be 
some  natural  perversity  of  my  character,  but  it 
does  seem,  to  me  as  if  our  armies,  gallant  as  they 
arc,  are  warring  against — what  shall  I  call  it? — 
against  Destiny." 

It  may  have  been  some  improper  reading,  or 
it  may  have  been  the  independence  of  her  nature 
rebelling  against  whatever  happened  to  be  dom- 
inant ;  but  it  had  pained  her  mother  that  Alice 
was  not  as  thoroughly  under  the  rule  of  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  day  as  she  desired  her  to  be. 


Perhaps  Mr.  Neely  had  visited  her  too  much — 
had  overdone  in  his  conversation  the  topic  of 
the  hour.  Devotedly,  too,  as  she  loved  her  uio- 
tiier,  she  had  known  Mrs.  Sorel  too  long  not  to 
acknowledge  to  herself  the  calm  superiority  of 
her  sense  and  judgment  to  the  mere  inii)ulse  of 
her  mother,  ijcauliful  as  that  impulse  was — not 
that  Mrs.  Sorel  had  conversed  with  her  on  the 
great  question  of  the  day.  At  least  not  for 
mouths  now  had  she  heard  a  word  from  her 
lips  upon  the  merits  of  the  quarrel.  In  truth, 
\cry  rarely  indeed  in  these  days  were  the  fam- 
ilies thrown  together.  Mrs.  Sorel  had  always 
spoken  frankly  on  the  subject  when  she  spoke  at 
all,  and  Mrs.  Bowles  was  as  decided  in  her  feel- 
ings on  the  subject  as  Mrs.  S<jrel  was  in  her  con- 
victions. Feeling  vs.  Conviction — that  was  the 
case  at  issue. 

"If  you  will  permit  me.  Miss  Alice,"  said  her 
companion,  "I  may  be  able  to  explain  you  to 
yourself.  If  you  had  read  and  thought  as  little 
upon  the  whole  question  now  convulsing  the 
country  as  the  mass  of  those  around  you — I  mean 
ui)on  both  sides  of  it — I  dare  say  you  would  think 
and  feel  exactly  as  they  do.  Or  if,  notwith- 
standing all  your  thought  and  reading,  your 
character  admitted  of  your  forgetting  every  thing 
of  the  kind,  and  giving  yourself  up  blindly  to  the 
popular  emotion,  whatever  it  was,  then,  too,  you 
would  feel  and  think,  as,  for  instance,  your  friend 
Miss  Anne  Wright  does.  I  do  not  mean  to  flat- 
ter you.  Miss  Alice,  but  I  can  not  say  what  I 
wish  to  say  without  seeming  to  do  so,"  he  add- 
ed, knotting  the  lash  of  his  riding-whip  indus- 
triously as  he  spoke. 

"I  only  wish  I  was  as  happy  as  Anne  in  her 
whole-heartedness  upon  the  subject,"  said  Alice. 
"How  she  does  abuse  the  Yankees!  I  do  be- 
lieve she  thinks  if  the  Yankees  succeed  they  will 
actually  make  her  go  to  the  wash-tub  for  them, 
enslave  her,  make  a  house-maid  or  a  field  hand 
of  her.  I'd  like  to  see  them  come  cavorting 
aronnd  jxe,  her  father  says.  Anne  says  she'll 
die  first.  I  would  certainly  hate  to  eat  any  dish 
of  her  preparing,  if  I  was  Mrs.  Lincoln,  or  who- 
ever her  future  mistress  is  to  be  ;  it  would  be  far 
from  wholesome,  I  was  telling  her  so  last  night," 
said  Alice,  with  a  laugh.  "  But,  then,  there  is 
my  dear,  dear  mother,"  she  added,  with  sudden 
i  gravity. 

"Will  you  forgive  me.  Miss  Alice?"  .said  her 
companion.     "My  admiration  and  affection  for 
your  mother  are  second  only  to  your  own,  and  I 
venture  to  say  only  this,"  he  continued,  gravely, 
although  he  saw  the  color  rising  in  her  cheek  : 
"if  you  had  been  born  at  the  date  of  your  mo- 
ther's birth  you  would  have  felt  and  thought  just 
I  as  she  does  to-day.     It  may  be  your  misfortune, 
[  but  you  were  born  some  thirty  years  after  your 
mother.     There  has  been  a  vast  change  in  the 
j  very  fashions  worn  since  then.     Look  at  your 
I  mother's  miniature,  taken  when  she  was  a  bride. 


108 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


There  is — whether  we  like  it  or  not — a  still 
greater  chanf^e  in  the  opinions  of  men.  A  per- 
son of  active  intellect — one  who  reads,  thinks,  ar- 
rives at  independent  conclusions — can  not  be  the 
same  in  opinion  with  one  born  a  third  of  a  cen- 
tury before,  unless  you  lived  like  Robinson  Cru- 
soe on  a  desert  island,  or  unless  you  lived  ex- 
clusively in  your  own  section,  like  the  Chinese, 
or  unless  you  went — " 

"J^jst  asleep,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  inter- 
rupted his  companion.  *'  Dear  me,  how  it 
rains  !  How  mamma  will  scold  me  for  venturing 
out  from  Mr.  AVright's!  You  must  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Arthur ;  but  the  plain  truth  is,  I  hate  to 
think  in  these  days.  I  wish  I  could  stop  think- 
ing, I'm  sure.  I  would  give  all  I  possess  for  a 
good  drink  fiom  the  flagon  that  put  Rip  Van 
Winkle  asleep!" 

"  To  come  out  of  your  cave  at  last,  as  he  did, 
and  find  all  the  world  changed  by  other  hands 
than  your  own.  Well,  ])erhaps  so.  And  yet  if 
there  is  indeed  a  great  change  for  the  better  to 
be  brought  about  by  human  brains  and  human 
hands,  I  confess  I  would  i)refer  not  to  live  alto- 
gether apart  from  it.  I  would  like — at  least  in 
my  happiest  moments  I  feel  so — to  have  a  heart 
and  a  hand  in  the  work.  But  it  is  a  wearisome 
tiling  to  think  upon  so  steadily.  I  never  felt  it 
more  so  than  to-day." 

Although  Alice  did  not  look  at  her  compan- 
ion she  none  the  less  saw  the  care  and  jiain,  even 
anguish,  upon  his  face.  With  a  woman's  quick 
insight,  however,  she  saw  that  the  anxiety  and 
uncertainty  almost  which  used  to — or  which  she 
months  ago  fancied  used  to — mark  the  counte- 
nance of  the  young  minister,  was  giving  place  to 
a  twofold  expression  of  confidence  and  peace ; 
an  expression  growing  from  day  to  day  through 
great  suffering  into  an  aspect  of  certainty  and 
joy.  Yet  Mr.  Neely  was  much  the  handsomest 
man  of  the  two,  so  fat  and  rosy  and  full  of  cord- 
ial sympathy  with  the  invaded  South. 

"  If  a  person  does  not  agree  in  sentiment  with 
the  people  of  the  South  what  does  he  stay  here 
for?  Evidently  he  ought  to  be  with  that  jieo- 
ple  in  whose  opinions  he  agrees.  If  I  was  with 
the  North  I  would  go  there,  and  I  would  stay  ' 
there."  That  was  ]\Ir.  Neely's  decided  opinion 
in  his  last  conversation  with  Alice — or  rather  in  j 
his  last  conversation  with  Mrs.  Bowles  when 
Alice  was  present.  Mr.  Neely  did  not  mention 
Mr.  Arthur's  name  in  that  connection :  so  that 
he  could,  of  course,  have  no  reference  to  him ; 
certainly  not. 

"But  suppose,  Mr.  Neely,"  Alice  liad  inno- 
cently asked,  looking  up  from  her  s'ewing — a  sol- 
dier's shirt  it  was,  one  of  a  dozen  made  from  the 
cover  of  her  piano,  cut  up  for  that  purpose  as 
the  only  material  to  be  had — "  suppose  you  pos-  ' 
sessed  property  at  the  South,  valuable  property, 
all  the  property  you  owned  in  the  world.  I  be-  i 
lieve  it  is  the  certain  loss  of  property  in  the  South  j 


for  a  person  to  leave  as  you  advise  ;  if  you  held 
the  sentiments  you  mention,  you  would  leave,  as 
you  say,  at  the  sacrifice  t)f  all  you  possessed  ?" 

"I  certainly  would.  Miss  Alice,"  he  rcjilied, 
enduring  her  clear  look.  Perhaps  in  such  a 
case  Mr.  Neely  would.  But  jjcrhaps  in  such  a 
case  Mr.  Neely  would  not,  also. 

"Then  if  you  were  now  at  the  North,  enter- 
taining the  sentiments  you  do,  you  would  in- 
stantly leave  the  North  for  the  South,  giving  up 
all  you  owned  there  to  do  so?"  asked  Alice. 
Ilcr  beautiful  eyes  were  full  uj)on  him.  What 
could  he  do? 

"I  would,  Miss  Alice,  I  certainly  would!" 
Oh,  Mr.  Neely  I  Not  to  know  that  you  knew, 
and  that  she  knew,  whether  you  sjiake  true  or 
not.  But,  then,  the  temj)tation  was  so  great,  to 
Mr.  Neely  the  greatest  temptation  possible  in 
the  whole  world. 

"  Suppose,  Mr.  Neely,  though  you  disapproved 
I  of  the  step  taken  by  the  South,  and  agreed  in 
the  course  pursued,  in  consequence  of  that  step, 
bj-  the  North,  yet  you  shrank  from  engaging  in 
I  actual  war  upon  your  own  people,  or  even  from 
being  surrounded  by  such  as  were,  how  then  ?" 
Alice  had  asked. 

"  These  are  no  days  for  such  nice  distinctions, 
Miss  Alice,"  the  school  teacher  had  promptly  re- 
plied. "As  one  feels  and  thinks  so  should  he 
act.  A  man  must  adopt  one  side  or  the  other, 
and  without  a  particle  of  reluctance  or  shame  in 
doing  so.  And  men  will  do  so  whose  views  are 
clear.  He  that  is  not  against  us  is  with  us;  he 
that  is  not  with  us  is  against  us — jilain  as  the 
multiplication  table.  Miss  Alice." 

Alice  really  did  not  know  what  to  reply.  But 
it  seemed  strange  to  hear  this  gentleman  from 
New  England  speaking  so  freely  of  We  and  Us  in 
connection  with  Southern  affairs.  The  possess- 
ive i)ronouns  in  all  their  inflections  were  used 
with  painful  frequency  by  the  Yankee  Secession- 
ists. ^^  Chir  brave  boys!"  "The  way  We  are 
whipping  them, too !"  "The  diabolical  designs 
meditated  against  Us  by  the  Federals!"  and 
kindred  phrases,  were  more  frequent  on  the  lips 
of  men  like  Mr.  Neely  from  the  North  than  of 
those  who  had  never  been  ontside  the  South  in 
their  own  selves,  or  in  the  persons  of  their  an- 
cestors, since  Jamestown  was  settled. 

It  seemed  somewhat  of  a  coincidence,  then, 
with  Mr.  Neely's  previous  remarks,  that  Mr.  Ar- 
thur should  say  now,  loving  Alice  as  he  did,  and 
answering  her  very  thoughts : 

"I  do  not  wish  to  speak  of  myself.  Here  in 
God's  providence  I  am.  Not  a  day,  or  a  mo- 
ment of  the  day,  that  I  do  not  feel  how  painful  a 
thing  it  is  to  differ  from  public  sentiment,  espe- 
cially from  the  sentiments  of  those  among  whom 
we  have  lived  all  our  live.s,  than  whom  there  are 
none  in  all  the  world  whom  we  esteem  or  love 
more.  I  have  done  my  very  best  to  become  a 
Secessionist,  but  I  can  not.     I  have  done  my 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


109 


utmost  to  believe,  at  least  to  hope  tliat,  after  all, 
the  Confederate  Government  will  be  a  success 
and  a  bles-<ing  to  the  South.  For  my  life  I  can 
not  tliiuk  so.  I  can  not  get  away  to  Europe, 
and  if  I  could  I  would  feel  very  nuu  h  like  Joiiiih 
on  his  way  to  Turshisli,  storm  or  no  stoiin.  No, 
I  am  in  cliarge  here  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel. 
So  long  as  I  am  permitted  to  do  so,  I  will  con- 
tinue the  duties  of  my  olKce,  obeying  faithfully 
the  Scripture  directions  as  to  the  Government 
over  mo.  I  was,  I  may  almost  sjiy,  in  agonies 
of  mind  at  first.  I  am  getting  used  to  it.  I 
have  within  me  such  a  settled  sense  that  I  could 
not  have  acted  otherwise  than  I  have  done  that 
I  am  coming  to  feel  as  quiet  in  mind  as  a  man 
can  be — a  kind  of  solid  cpiiet  greater  than  I  ever 
possessed  before.  And  my  experience,  though 
I  am  not  so  situated  as  to  have  correspondence, 
or  the  least  intercourse  in  any  way,  with  one  of 
them,  is  that  of  perhaps  thousands  of  my  brethren 
in  the  ministry  at  the  South,  and,  in  some  re- 
spects, of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  very  best 
men,  all  Southern  men,  and  destined  to  do  a 
great  work  in  and  for  the  South  yet.  But  if  I 
knew  this  hour.  Miss  Alice,  that  I  was  the  only 
Southern  man  in  the  whole  South  entertaining 
the  sentiments  I  do,  I  could  entertain  them  not 
a  jot  the  less  for  that.  It  may  be  my  misfortune, 
it  may  be  my  crime,  it  certainly  is  my  case.  As 
to  the  future  of  myself  and  of  my  country  I  am 
learning  to  leave  the  whole  in  the  Hands  that  are 
managing  it,  perfectly  satisfied  in  advance  as  to 
the  result.  You  must  really  excuse  me,  Miss 
Alice,"  he  added,  with  a  smile.  "  It  is  the  first 
time  I  have  spoken  to  you  thus  of  myself.  I  as- 
sure you  it  shall  be  the  last  time.  It  has  only 
hajtpened  so,  you*  see.  You  must  endure  it  as 
one  of  the  accidents  of  this  rainy  day." 

But  Alice  did  not  hear  these  last  words.  It 
was  only  a  few  days  ago  that  she  had  been  read- 
ing Milton,  and  why  she  knew  not,  but  the  lines 
were  passing  through  her  mind  as  he  spoke : 

"So  spake  the  seraph  Abdiel,  faithful  found 
Among  the  faithle^fj,  faithful  only  he: 
Among  innumerable  fal.»e,  unmoved, 
Unshaken,  unseduc'd,  unterrify'd 
Hid  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal; 
Nor  number,  nor  example  with  him  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  hia  constant  mind 
Though  single." 

Her  head  drooped  until  the  plume  of  her  rid- 
ing-cap almost  concealed  her  face.  But,  at  last, 
Edward  Arthur  said  nothing  to  her  of  himself 
which  she  did  not  know  already,  and  know  fully 
as  well  as  he  did  himself.  She  stood  still,  occu- 
pied with  the  shred  of  cotton  on  the  ground  at 
her  feet,  But  no  longer  cutting  at  it  as  before, 
moving  it  rather  hither  and  thither  with  the  lash 
of  her  riding-w  hip,  lovingly,  caressingly  even,  as 
if  it  were  some  living  thing  which  she  would  not 
hurt  for  the  world. 

"No,  but  Miss  Alice,  what  I  want  to  know" 


— Mrs.  Warner  had  said  to  her  in  the  court- 
house where  the  ladies  met  to  work  for  the  sol- 
diers only  the  week  before,  and  it  was  after  a  long 
stretch  of  remark  by  Mrs.  Warner  on  the  one  top- 
ic— "what  I  want  to  know  is  just  this:  do  you 
not  believe  that  the  Yankees,  invading  our  coun- 
try, burning  our  homes,  killing  our  women  and 
children,  are  worse  than  the  very  devils  in  hell?" 

"How  should  I  know,  Mi-s.  Warner?"  Alice 
had  replied.  "  I  have  never  been  to  the  abode 
of  the  evil  spirits  you  sjK'ak  of.  I  never  saw  a 
devil  in  my  life.  If  i  w  as  to  come  upon  a  person 
possessed  with  one  I  would  keep  as  far  oft"  from — 
dear  me,  you  must  excuse  me,  I  must  go  and  get 
Mrs.  Sorcl  yonder  to  give  me  some  more  thread." 

"I  tell  you,  Dr.  Warner,"  Mrs.  Warner  re- 
marked to  her  husband  at  sujiper  that  night, 
"there  is  something  wrong  about  that  Alice 
Bowles.  Iler  mother,  Mrs.  Bowles,  such  a  gen- 
uine Southern  woman,  too.  You  are  their  fam- 
ily physician,  and  sure  enough  I  am  your  influ- 
ence on  her  has  not  been  favorable  for  the 
South.  You  are  the  plague  and  misery  of  my 
life  with  your  milk-and-water  way  of  thinking 
and  talking,  or  rather  not  talking  at  all  upon  the 
subject.  How  a  man  of  your  years,  one  who  reads 
the  papers  every  day,  can  be  as  mild  as  you  are  I 
And,  then,  knowing  my  feelings  on  the  subject, 
hearing  everyday  and  hour  of  your  life  all  /say 
— I  do  believe  it  is  just  to  cross  me.  Because  I 
am  so  strong  for  the  South  you  are  exactly  the 
opposite !"  Wiiich  statement,  by-the-by,  was  not 
far  from  the  truth.  But  Dr.  Warner  only  ate 
his  sujjper  with  the  shower-bath  droop  about  the 
head,  and  nathless  so  endured. 

"  Alice's  father  was  a  stanch  Secessionist  years 
ago,"  mused  Mrs.  Warner,  aloud,  striking  her 
tea-spoon  against  her  empty  cup.  "That  is  his 
portrait  hanging  up  in  their  parlor,  grand  enough 
to  look  at ;  only  it's  a  pity  he  couldn't  have  left 
a  few  more  negroes  to  his  wife  and  children. 
There's  Rutlodge  Bowles,  Mrs.  Bowles  is  so  ever- 
lastingly talking  about.  A  worthless,  drinking, 
gambling  fellow,  there  in  Charleston,  if  half 
I've  heard  about  him  is  true.  He'd  better  be 
here  at  home  making  money  for  his  mother.  But 
he's  a  good  Secessionist,  was  active  in  the  taking 
of  Fort  Sumter  there  at  Charleston.  Did  Alice 
ever  visit  the  North  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Warner,  sud- 
denly. 

"  I  believe  not,"  replied  her  husband. 

"Because  it  always  has  the  worst  effect  on 
Southern  people.  Spending  the  summer  at  the 
North  !  I  reckon  that  old  cry  is  over.  I  never 
was  out  of  the  South !  And  a  far  better  South- 
ern man  you  would  be.  Dr.  Warner,  if  you  had 
never  spent  that  time  in  riiiladclphia,  attending 
medical  lectures.  If  I  only  had  my  way,"  said 
Mrs.  Warner,  for  the  three  thousandth  time, 
"no  Southern  citizen  should  ever  visit  the  North 
on  any  pretext.  Nor  Europe  either,  for  that  mat- 
ter; they  are  just  as  rank  Abolitionists  there  as 


110 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ARTHUR  AND  ALICE  AT  THE  OLD  GIN. 


at  the  North.  Won't  recognize  us  on  account 
of  Slavery,  Yancey  said  there  in  his  speech  in 
New  Orleans !  Yes,  if  I  had  my  way  I'd  build 
a  wall  a  hundred  feet  high  all  round  the  South, 
in  real  earnest ;  nobody  should  go  out  and  no- 


body should  come  in.  To  think  how  they  used 
to  flood  the  country  with  their  books  and  papers 
and  peddlers  and  things !     Hang  them !" 

"I  am  sure  Alice  has  taken  an  active  part," 
began  the  Doctor. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Ill 


"  Presenting  that  flag  ?  Sewing,  and  singing 
at  concerts  for  the  soliiicrs,  and  all  that?"  inter- 
rupted his  wife.  "There's  something  wrong  for 
all  that.  I  began  to  think  so  that  day  she  op- 
posed having  a  lottery  fur  the  assistance  of  that 
regiment.  It  was  against  the  rules  of  rcligiun, 
she  said,  and  there  is  a  law  of  the  State — won- 
der how  she  came  to  know  that  ? — expressly  i)ro- 
hibiting  it.  As  if  any  body  would  dare  enforce 
such  a  law  these  days.  And  as  if  Urother  Bar- 
ker himself  did  not  go  in  for  it,  and  have  the 
meeting  to  arrange  for  it  in  the  very  church. 
But,  opi>osed  or  not,  we  had  it  any  how.  No,  I 
know  exactly  how  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Warner,  in 
a  lower  and  more  intense  tone,  peering  at  her 
husband  under  mysterious  eyebrows,  and  shak- 
ing the  tea-spoon  at  him  like  the  thyrsus  of  a 
magician.  ^^  It  is  Mr.  Arthur  !  Haven't  I  got 
eyes?  Never  tell  me  !  And  he  living  there  for 
years,  now;  helping  her  in  her  studies,  and  all 
that  stuft".  lie's  gone  to  live  at  Mrs.  Sorel's,  I 
know.  He  doesn't  visit  at  Mrs.  Bowles  hardly 
at  all.  I  met  their  boy  Charles  on  the  street  and 
asked  him  only  the  other  day.  I  know  they  ain't 
engaged,  for  I  asked  Mr.  Arthur  himself  when 
he  was  here  last.  But  there's  something  wrung 
in  Alice's  mind  about  Secession,  and  it  came 
there  just  in  that  way,  you  mark  my  words. 
And  how  people — you  among  them — ici/l  con- 
tinue to  go  and  hear  him  preach  these  days  is 
more  than  I  can  understand.  For  my  part  I'd 
just  as  soon — " 

But  we  have  no  disposition  to  share  in  Dr. 
Warner's  martyrdom. 

A  very  smart  woman  was  Mrs.  Warner.  Long 
and  unwearying  investigations  into  the  affairs  of 
others  had  given  her  a  remarkable  power  of  in- 
sight. Who  will  deny  all  of  her  reasonings  in 
this  matter?  The  being  a  Union  man  involved, 
at  that  period  of  the  war,  in  general  estimation, 
the  being  either  a  fool  or  a  knave.  Now  Alice 
could  not  believe  that  Mr.  Arthur  was  either, 
so  that  her  faith  in  the  desperate  depravity  of 
Unionism  may  have  thereby  been  shaken.  And 
there  was  Mrs.  Sorel  too,  such  an  old  friend, 
one  whom  she  had  so  long  loved  and  esteemed, 
a  South  Carolinian  too ;  her  sentiments  were  all 
against  Secession.  It  only  happened  so,  you  see. 
But  was  ever  fly  entangled  in  a  web  so  terrible  ? 
It  was  Spenser's  ever  old  and  forever  new  Song 
of  the  Fair  Una  traveling  through  the  wilder- 
nesses. Ah,  how  dark  and  brambly  the  way ! 
Consider  this  Southern  girl — for  hers  is  but  one 
case  of  how  many  thousands  of  her  sex :  born 
on  the  bosom  of  the  old  era,  tended  by  it  from 
birth  with  its  ten  thousand  tenderest  touches ; 
all  the  deep  aversion  of  early  and  life-long  prej- 
udice repelling  her  from  the  bringers-on  of  the 
new  era;  all  the  warmest  sympathies  natural 
to  the  bosom  with  soil  invaded,  kindred  slain, 
valor  struggling  against  overwhelming  odds :  add 
to  this  the  ever-present  force  of  an  almost  uni- 


versal enthusiasm.  And  the  new  era  dawning 
over  her,  with  skies  so  dim  and  with  hints  so 
vague  of  its  coming  clearness.  Happy  are  those 
whose  lot  is  in  the  centre,  say,  of  one  era — Lu- 
ther's i)arent8,  let  us  instance.  Ilapjiier  still 
those  who  live  in  the  centre  of  the  era  which 
follows — those  possessed  of  a  perfected  Protest- 
antism, we  will  say.  But  the  transition  jieriod 
between  the  two  eras — how  stormy  and  fidl  of 
all  jierplexity !  In  every  transition  period  the 
perplexity  lies  not  witlKnit  only  —  it  is  within 
one's  own  bosom  that  the  shadow  is  darkest,  its 
strife  bitterest.  Easy  enough  to  do  the  right 
when  a  sincere  soul  but  Lnotvs  the  right — the 
agony  is  to  know  with  sufficient  clearness  what 
j.s-  the  right. 

If  one  dare  ))lagiarize  from  Brother  Barker 
his  mode  of  finding  the  times  in  pro]»hcey,  we 
might  be  tempted  as  we  read  to  let  finger  and 
eye  linger  upon  this  prophecy  as  bearing  upon 
the  days  of  Secession:  "It  shall  come  to  pass 
in  that  day  that  the  light  shall  not  be  clear  nor 
dark ;  but  it  shall  be  one  day  which  shall  be 
known  to  the  Lord,  not  day  nor  night :  but  it 
shall  come  to  pass  that  at  evening  time  it  shall 
be  light."  Only  look  in  Brother  Barker's  little 
black  Bible.  You  will  find  the  margin  of  the 
two  verses  immediately  before  this  passage  is 
all  worn  away.  Brother  Barker,  standing  in 
the  pulpit  a  hundred  times  during  Secession, 
has  kept  the  fore-finger  of  his  left  hand  pressed 
just  there,  holding  on  like  an  a^ichor  to  the 
passage,  while  all  the  rest  of  his  body  swung 
about  wildly  in  a  tempest  of  declamation,  prov- 
ing that  therein  Secession  and  its  glories  were 
set  forth  with  a  distinctness  which  left  only  the 
inference  of  judicial  blindness  upon  those  who 
could  not  see  it.  Let  us  do  the  brother  justice  ; 
only  recognize  the  fact  that  the  passage  in  ques- 
tion does  refer  to  Secession,  and  it  is  striking, 
very  striking  indeed.  However,  Brother  Bark- 
er never  ])ut  our  interpretation  upon — if  you 
have  curiosity  to  look  them  up — those  sixth  and 
seventh  verses  of  the  fourteenth  Zcchariah — 
the  reverse,  in  fact. 

The  rain  is  falling  less  and  less  heavily  upon 
the  leaky  roof  of  the  old  gin-house,  if  the  par- 
ties within  only  knew  it.  Twenty  times  has 
the  young  minister  said  to  himself,  "No,  Sir, 
no;  this  is  neither  the  time  nor  the  jilace." 
But  there  is  something  about  the  drooped  head* 
and  the  hue  upon  the  cheek,  even  in  the  motion 
of  the  gloved  hand  holding  tlie  riding-whip,  as 
it  toys  with  the  shred  of  cotton  on  the  dust,  that 
emboldens  him.  He  has  been  speaking  out  his 
soul,  his  heart ;  and  how  soft  and  aft'ccting  are 
the  tones  of  the  voice  when  one  docs  so ! 

"And,  next  to  the  approval  of  my  own  con- 
science, do  I  desire  your  approval,''  he  is  begin- 
ning to  say,  when  Alice  raises  herself  and  looks 
across  the  old  field  plashy  with  water.     She  has 


112 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


heard  nothing,  but  a  woman's  instinct  of  aj)- 
proaching  clanger  is  strong  npon  her.  And  at 
last  she  sees  only  a  man  on  horseback  hundreds 
of  yards  away  riding  slowly  toward  them.  It  is 
strange  how  swift  the  sex  is  in  its  reasonings 
and  conclusions. 

In  the  instant  of  seeing  the  approaching  horse- 
man she  says,  and  she  says  it  hurriedly  : 

"May  I  ask  it  as  a  sjxicial  favor,  Mr.  Arthur, 
that  you  will  mount  your  horse  and  leave  me  ? 
You  see  the  rain  is  over.  Excuse  me,  but  jdcasc 
do."     How  earnest  she  is ! 

Mr.  Arthur  hears,  with  sense  of  pleasure  at 
the  tones,  but  with  surprise  at  the  request. 

"I  know  you  will  excuse  me  and  comply  with 
my  request  if  you  only  knew  why  I  ask  it,"  she 
said,  still  more  hurriedly,  her  eyes  upon  the 
horseman,  her  gloved  luuul  resting  upon  his 
arm. 

"Really,  Miss  Alice,"  her  companion  began. 

"  Oblige  me  this  once,  Mr.  Arthur,"  she  con- 
tinued, in  tones  of  entreaty  and  apprehension. 
"Yonder  is  !Mr.  Wright.  You  know  his  char- 
acter and  sentiments.  I  have  a  fear  that  he 
may  be  intoxicated — " 

"You  must  excuse  me,  !Miss  Alice,"  inter- 
rupted Edward  Arthur,  gravely  and  coldly.  "I 
understand  your  apprehension,  but  I  can  not  do 
as  you  wish."  And  a  flush  almost  of  anger 
mounted  to  his  temples. 

It  was  too  late.  Alice  busied  herself  with  her 
pony,  leading  him  in  front  of  her  companion, 
who  assisted  her  to  mount. 

"Why,  good-morning  to  yon,  Mr.  Wright," 
said  Alice  to  the  horseman,  who  had  now  reach- 
ed them,  in  tones  of  gayety  singularly  in  contrast 
with  those  she  had  just  used.  "I  will  be  glad 
of  your  escort  back  to  your  house.  I  u•o^lld  start 
this  morning  for  home  in  spite  of  all  Anne  could 
do.  But  I  have  got  wet ;  do  let  us  make  haste ; 
the  rain  is  over."  And  she  lifted  her  reins, 
gathered  in  her  hand  as  if  to  start,  keejiing  her- 
self, however,  still  between  Mr.  Arthur  and  the 
person  she  addressed. 

With  an  "Excuse  me.  Miss  Alice!"  Edward 
Arthur  struck  her  pony  a  slight  blow  with  his 
riding-whip,  and  Mr.  Wright,  who  had  reined  in 
his  horse  with  drunken  dignity,  sat  staring  at  him 
face  to  face. 

Alonzo  Wright.  As  refined  and  agreeable  a 
gentleman  as  you  could  meet  with  any  where  when 
sober.  When  drunk,  a  devil  incarnate.  Long 
ago  had  he  killed  his  first  man.  It  was  when  he 
was  intoxicated,  and  because  he  fancied  at  the 
time  the  individual  in  question,  a  merry  youth 
of  sixteen — Jim  Hartley — was  looking  imperti- 
nently at  him.  Very  rarely  had  he  got  drunk 
since  then.  But  when  he  did  become  intoxi- 
cated the  passion  for  killing  some  one  again  came 
upon  him  as  a  mania,  as  part  and  parcel  of  his 
drunkenness.  It  all  took  plaea  before  Mr. 
Wright  removed  to  his  present  home;  in  fact 


he  had  come  hither  on  that  account;  but,  un- 
less rumor  lied  more  even  than  it  usually  does, 
if  Jim  Hanky  was  the  first  he  was  by  no  means 
the  last  man  Mr.  Wright  had  killed.  Everj' 
body  knew  Alonzo  Wright ;  and  when  drunk 
Nero  on  his  throne  had  not  courtiers  more  ab- 
ject. That  is,  such  of  them  as  did  not  fly  the 
s|)ot.  Sliunned  as  his  house  was  by  almost  ev- 
ery one  excejjt  an   unselect  few,  it  was  on  that 

j  very  account  that  Alice  had  felt  specially  drawn 
to   poor  Anne  Wright,  her  school-fellow,  and 

j  hence  her  visit  to  her. 

I  As  Alice  anticipated,  ^fr.  Wright  was  drunk, 
very  drunk.  TIow  could  it  have  been  otherwise 
in  Somerville  last  night  after  the  arrival  of  such 

j  news  ?  There  had  been  a  military'  prohibition  on 
the  sale  of  liquor  in  the  place  for  several  weeks 
now;  but  the  authorities  themselves  "raised," 
as  they  styled  it,  "the  blockade  on  whisky"  to 
celebrate  the  glorious  victory  over  M'Clellan. 
Men  who  never  drank  before  got  drunk  in  Som- 
erville last  night.  Men  whose  whisky  had  been 
cut  off"  for  the  months  past  drank  last  night  in 
Somerville  with  the  frenzy  of  long  abstinence. 
Even  Lamum  was  shocked  at  the  state  of  Som- 
erville last  night,  Tim  Lamum,  his  nejthew,  wal- 
lowing and  vomiting  on  his  office  floor  in  the 
experiences  of  his  first  "regular  spree."  And 
Mr.  Wright,  having  an  entire  grocery  abandoned 
to  him  during  all  last  night,  had  so  far  killed  no 
one.  He  was  riding  home  with  an  unsatisfied 
craving  in  his  heart,  his  loaded  revolver  ready 
for  any  emergency  that  might  arise.  Vague 
wrath  slumbered  in  his  bosom  against  whatever 
negro  miglit  come  out  to  hold  his  horse  as  he 
should  dismount  at  his  gate.  Not  a  negro  on 
the  jdace,  however,  but  will  find  pressing  busi- 
ness on  the  remotest  part  of  the  i)lantation  when 
it  is  known  that  "Mass  Lonny  is  comin'." 

Such  is  Alonzo  Wright,  a  slight-built,  sandy- 
haired,  pale-faced  man,  who  now  sits  on  his 
horse  gazing  upon  the  young  minister,  of  whose 
presence  he  was  not  aware  until  Alice  and  her 
pony  had  moved  from  between  them. 
It  all  takes  jdace  as  in  a  second  of  time. 
"And  who  are  you?"  Mr.  Wright  says,  with 
a  sudden  half-closing  of  his  eyes  and  an  oath. 

Edward  Arthur  knows  perfectly  well  who  and 
what  Alonzo  Wright  is.  More  than  once  has 
he  been  received  with  the  most  gentlemanly 
courtesy  by  Jlr.  Wright  in  visiting  there.  But 
that  was  months  ago.  Besides,  it  was  under  Mr. 
Wright's  own  roof;  and,  drunk  as  he  is,  were  it 
under  that  roof  he  was  now  meeting  Mr.  Arthur, 
he  would  have  treated  him  as  a  gentleman  and 
a  guest.  But  they  are  not  in  Mr.  Wright's 
house  ;  Mr.  Wright  is  drunk,  and  this  Mr.  Ar- 
thur is  strongly  suspected  of  being  a  Union  man. 
Nothing  more  abhorred  by  Mr.  Wright  even 
when  sober  than  that. 

"My  name  is  Edward  Arthur,"  replies  that 
gentleman;  but  his  manner  is  stern  from  his 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


li;{ 


knowloilge  of  the  questioner  and  of  wluit  may 
follow. 

"A  preacher  and  an  Abolitionist,"  says  Mr. 
Wriylit,  with  a  volley  of  oaths. 

Mr.  Arthur  has  nothint;  to  reply,  but  has 
turned  to  the  post  at  which  his  horse  is  tied,  and 
is  slowly  unfastening  him  to  i-eturft  home. 

"And  now  you  are  going  to  run,  are  you? 
what  you  Yankees  always  do.  Hold  on!"  cx- 
ehiims  Mr.  Wright,  in  a  tone  such  as  only  men 
like  those  of  his  class  can  use.  ''Get  out  of  the 
way  I"  he  adds,  with  a  cut  of  his  whip  across  the 
head  of  Alice's  pony,  which  she  is  endeavoring 
to  ride  between  them.  He  hears  not  a  word 
Alice  says — is  not  aware  of  her  existence.  His 
eyes,  almost  shut,  are  fastened  ui)on  his  jircy. 

"Look  here,"  he  adds,  slowly,  drawing  his 
revolver  from  his  girdle  as  he  sjieaks,  "I've  got 
one  boy  away  in  the  army  fighting  the  Yankees. 
Ten  to  one  he  was  killed  in  that  last  fight  at 
Richmond.  If  there  is  any  thing  in  this  world 
I  would  like  to  do  this  morning  it  is  to  kill  an 
Abolitionist.  Now,  you  say  'Hurrah  for  Jeff 
Uavis  I'  or  you  are  a  dead  man." 

Knowing  his  man,  hearing  that  indescribable 
tone  of  his  voice,  Edward  Arthur  had  no  doubt 
that  he  meant  what  he  said. 

"  Do,  Mr.  Arthur,  for  my  sake,  my  sake,  my 
sake,"  Alice  keeps  on  rc]ieating,  still  endeavor- 
ing to  force  her  pony  between  them.  But  pony 
fears  Mr.  Wright's  whip  and  shies  off. 

Unarmed,  no  chance  of  springing  upon  him 
before  he  can  shoot,  there  is  no  alternative. 

"Fire  when  you  please,  I  will  die  first  I"  he 
replies,  as  i)ale,  as  cold,  as  rigid  as  a  statue. 

There  is  the  sharp  crack  of  a  revolver,  with 
Alice's  shriek  on  the  air.  It  may  have  been 
that  Mr.  Wright  has  been  drunk  too  long,  or 
that  there  was  an  extra  quantity  of  strychnine 
in  the  whisky  of  last  night ;  for  the  genuine 
liquor  is  running  very  low  in  these  days  of  the 
blockade — but  the  bullet  sings  by  i\Ir.  Arthur's 
left  ear,  and  he  stands  erect  and  unhurt.  And 
next,  what?  He  thinks  of  springing  upon  the 
desperado,  but  he  knows  there  are  five  more 
charges  in  his  weapon !  Mr.  Wright  curses  his 
nerves  and  again  j)rcsents  his  weaj)on. 

"One  more  chance,  Abolitionist,"  he  says, 
"  'Hurrah  for  Jeff  Da  vis  and  the  Confederacy' — 
out  with  it  I' 

The  young  minister  has  no  reply  at  all  to  make 
this  time.  Pale,  cold,  rigid  he  fastens  his  eye, 
glittering  like  ice,  upon  that  of  Mr.  Wright. 
No  attention  at  all  does  that  individual  jiay  to 
Alice,  who  has  leaj)ed  from  her  pony  and  stands 
at  his  side  pulling  with  both  hands  at  his  coat, 
weeping  and  entreating.  He  keeps  his  weapon 
leveled  at  the  furchoad  of  his  intended  victim, 
his  finger  on  the  trigger  fidl  a  minute. 

There  is  neither  flinching  of  muscle  nor  quail- 
ing of  eye  there.     The  desperado  slowly  lowers 
his  wcniK)n.      "Weill"  he  exclaims,   with  an 
U 


oath,  "you  are  as  brave  as  a  man  can  i)o.  I'll 
do  you  that  justice  if  you  are  an  Abolitionist. 
I  could  not  kill  even  old  Lincoln  himself  if  he 
was  looking  me  as  straight  in  the  eyes.  We'll 
cry  (piits  if  you  say  so;"  and  he  rose  in  his  stir- 
rup to  rejilace  his  weapon  comfortably  in  its 
sheath  at  his  waist. 

"No,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Arthur,  sternly,  "I  am 
not  a  specially  brave  man  that  I  am  aware  of. 
But  it  hajjpens  to  me  just  now  tjiat  I  am  not 
particularly  in  love  wiili  this  world,  and  I  am,  I 
trust,  jirepared  for  the  other.  Besides,  I  am  not 
in  your  hands  or  in  those  of  any  other  man  ;  now, 
as  always,  I  am  in  the  hands  only  of  God." 

"It  looked  very  much  as  if  God  had  turned 
you  over  to  me  just  now  ;  one  touch  of  my  finger 
on  that  trigger  and  yon  would  have  been  in  the 
other  world  sure  enough.  However,  we  won't 
quarrel  about  it.  Ah,  this  is  you.  Miss  Alice," 
he  continued,  "  is  it  ?  You  must  really  jiardon 
me  any  rudeness.  But  we  do  not  capture  a 
M'Clellan  and  his  entire  army  every  day" — the 
ruffian  instantly  lost  now  in  the  iiolislicd  gentle- 
man. "Shall  we  ride?  Anne  will  be  glad  to 
see  you." 

""Thank  yon,  Mr.  Wright,"  said  Alice,  who 
was  by  this  time  seated  again  on  her  pony,  "I 
believe  I  will  ride  on  home;  Mr.  Arthur  will  be 
kind  enough  to  escort  me.  Good-morning;" 
and  the  two  rode  slowly  oft",  leaving  Mr.  Wright 
carefully  buttoning  up  his  waistcoat  to  protect 
his  cherished  weajjon  from  the  danqi,  hesitating 
but  what  he  ought  to  use  it  yet.  And  long  sits 
Mr.  Wright  upon  his  horse,  looking  after  them 
as  they  ride  away,  doubtful  in  reference  to  the 
course  he  has  jiursucd  in  failing  to  kill  some 
one,  especially  the  chance,  in  his  very  hands, 
too,  of  having  neglected  to  kill  a  Union  man  ! 
Dissatisfied  Alonzo  Wright  is  with  the  event  and 
with  himself.  Stop !  Ten  to  one  some  of  the 
hands  have  been  up  to  something  on  the  place 
since  he  left  yesterday.  Want  to  be  free,  do 
they?  Only  one  good  chance  at  any  one  of 
them — and  with  ap})etitc  quickened  by  new  hope 
of  food,  Mr.  Wright  sjmrs  from  under  the  old 
gin,  and  rides  rapidly  home  through  the  driz- 
zle. 

Alice  rode  along  the  miry  way  in  silence,  weep- 
ing and  mirth  struggling  with  and  neutralizing 
each  other  in  her  bosom.  It  is  remarkable  how 
little  these  two  can  find  to  say  to  each  other 
under  the  circumstances  all  the  way  to  Mrs. 
Bowles's  front  gate  in  Somen'ille.  INIr.  Arthur 
is  almost  haughty  in  his  bearing,  certainly  very 
cold  and  quiet.  And  so,  assisting  her  from  her 
pony,  they  part,  Mr.  Arthur  declining  to  enter 
the  house  on  the  plea  of  neglected  studies. 

Yet  all  the  way  to  Mrs.  Bowles,  and  when  he 
parted  with  Alice  at  the  gate,  our  clerical  friend 
fancies  that  his  companion  sits  on  her  pony  with 
a  form  more  erect,  and  tlie  moniing  as  of  a  new 
jjurpose  breaking  on  her  face.     "Only  fancy,  I 


Ill 


INSIDE.— A  CIIROXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"ONE   MORE  CHANCE,  ABOLITIONIST." 


dare  say,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  rode  home- 
ward, "only  fancy!" 

"Proud?  For  any  one  to  speak  of  my  being 
proud!"  Alice  says  to  herself,  as  she  stands  in 
her   room,  her   hand   wandering   mechanically 


about  the  fasteninps  of  her  hat.  Unconscious 
of  hei-self  utterly,  because  so  conscious  of  an- 
other, and  that  other  not  Mr.  Bezaleel  Necly  ei- 
ther, immaculate  Secessionist  though  Mr.  Neely 
is !    Four  years  since  the  writer  has  seen  a  copy 


INSIDE.— A  CHUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


115 


of  Tennyson — not  a  copy  nt  present  in  hundreds 
of  miles,  from  memory  let  the  lines  be  ventured  : 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  life,  struck  on  all  chords  with 
might. 
Struck  the  chord  of  »olf,  which,  tix-ubling,  pai^sed  in 
music  out  of  eight." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"BcT  I  do  sincerely  hope,  my  friends,  that 
we  are  ready  by  this  time  to  turn  away  from 
these  second  and  seventh  chapters  of  Daniel. 
There  are  a  host  of  other  passages  in  Scripture 
I  am  anxious  to  show  you.  Astonishing,  is  it 
not,  that  men  should  have  supposed  so  long 
that  America  was  not  referred  to  in  the  Bible  ? 
Why  there  is  not  a  day  passes  but  I,  for  one,  find 
some  fresh  allusion  in  it,  especially  to  our  glori- 
ous Confederacy.  Yes,  let  us  leave  this  behind 
lis  as  settled.  By  '  the  Ancient  of  days'  here  in 
Daniel  is  clearly  meant  the  old  United  States. 
By  the  '  one  like  unto  the  Son  of  man'  is  as  un- 
doubtedly meant  the  Confederate  States.  The 
'mountain'  refers,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  Unit- 
ed States  also.  The  stone '  cut  out  of  the  mount- 
!un  without  hands,'  which  is  to  dash  all  other 
nations  to  pieces,  and  become  the  great  central 
Christian  nation  of  the  millennium,  is,  as  we  have 
clearly  shown  yon,  the  Confederate  States.  Any 
flaw  in  our  reasoning  is  simply  imj)ossible.  The 
man  that  can  not  perceive  this  is  hopelessly  rot- 


ten.    Heaven  forbid,  dear  brethren,  there  should 
be  a  Union  man  among  you!" 

And  here  Brother  Hiirker  pauses,  wipes  his 
streaming  face  and  tiien  liis  moist  hands  witli 
his  very  damp  handkerchief,  lays  it  beside  hi.s 
Bible  to  dry,  takes  another  si])  of  water,  and  Ijc- 
gins  afresh.  He  is  in  the  puljiit  on  his  regular 
montiily  appointment  in  the  Bines,  a  country 
neighborhood  some  fifty  miles  from  Sonierville. 
A  log  church  it  is,  densely  crowded  to-day.  On 
his  last  regular  Sabbath  there  Brother  Barker 
had  ])reached  a  thanksgiving  discourse  uipon  the 
defeat  and  capture  of  M'tUellan  at  Kicliinond, 
so  powerful  as  to  bring  hira  into  a  state  of  hoarse- 
ness from  which  he  is  not  recovered  even  yet. 
'•  I'd  rather  wear  out  than  rust  out,"  he  has  re- 
marked ;  and  to-day  he  is  delivering  one  in  his 
series  of  sermons  upon  the  Confederate  States  in 
Scripture. 

The  fact  is,  it  is  long  now  since  Brother  Bark- 
er has  preached  any  thing  else  except  the  war. 
Nothing  in  the  world  more  insijiid,  behind  the 
times,  obsolete  for  the  present,  than  the  Gospel. 
But  has  he  not  taken  up  projihecy  instead  ?  And 
is  not  prophecy  as  much  a  jiart  of  Scripture  as 
the  old  gospel?  And  Brother  Barker  frankly 
disclaims  all  credit  as  the  discoverer  of  his  new 
interpretations  of  prophecy ;  they  are  discover- 
ies too  splendid  for  that. 

"  I  only  use  the  investigations  of  other  divines 
at  the  South,"  he  said.  "The  documents  them- 
selves can  not  be  circulated  as  widely  as  they 
ought  owing  to  the  dearth  of  paper.  But  so  con- 
clusive are  these  discourses,  so  exceedingly  en- 
couraging to  every  Christian  patriot,  that  so  far 
as  my  poor  bleeding  lungs  will  allow  I  am  mak- 
ing them  known  by  word  of  mouth  to  all  under 
sound  of  my  voice.  I  learn  there  are  up  here  in 
the  Pines  some  who  hold  to  the  old  Union  still ; 
few,  very  few  I  do  hope.  If  the  brutality  of  the 
North,  if  the  justice  of  the  Confederate  cause 
have  not  convinced  such  of  their  error,  Scrii)ture 
surely  must.  Scripture,  brethren,  Scrljdure ! 
And  right  here  let  us  turn,  if  you  please,  to  an- 
other passage. — But  wait  a  moment.  Look  at 
me,"  says  Brother  Barker,  folding  his  long  arms 
upon  his  narrow  chest,  and  standing  back  a  lit- 
tle from  the  puljnt.  "As  you  all  mny  know, 
your  unworthy  speaker  was  born  at  the  North. 
I  have  some  half  dozen  brothers  alive  there  this 
very  Stmday,  I  sujipose.  Do  you  want  to  know 
the  Scripture  that  cured  vie  of  my  last  love  for 
the  North  ?  Turn  then  to  Genesis  forty-first, 
fifty-first.  Wait  a  moment.  What  was  the  first 
great  battle  of  our  revolution?  Manassas!  Very 
good.  Now  read  the  passage:  'And  Joseph 
called  the  name  of  the  first-born  Manassnh  :  For 
God,  said  he,  hath  made  me  for{;et  all  my  toil, 
and  all  my  father's  house.'  See?"  And  with 
the  finger  of  his  left  hand  on  the  passage,  Broth- 
er Barker  spent  a  velicment  five  minutes  in  show- 
ing how  entirely  the  South  had  in  and  by  that 


116 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


battle  been  made  to  forget  its  long  slavery  to  the 
North,  all  affection  even  for  that  the  home  of  its 
ancestors. 

"Scripture  prophesied  enough  for  me  here," 
he  said,  with  both  palms  on  his  Bible.  *'  My  old 
father  ?  Manassas !  My  brothers  there  ?  Ma- 
nassas !  The  North,  and  all  in  it,  now,  hence- 
forth, and  for  evermore  ?  At  the  very  least 
utter  forgetfulncss  and  eternal  alienation.  In 
other  words,  Alanassas,  Manassas  I  And  yet 
there  are  people  who  doubt  whether  our  war  is 
referred  to  in  this  Holy  Book  I"  added  the 
preacher,  with  an  air  of  patient  resignation. 

Another  application  of  the  handkerchief  to 
face  and  neck  and  hands ;  another  sip  at  the 
glass  of  water. 

"Let  us  turn  now  to  Isaiah  sixty-sixth,  seven 
and  eight."  And  Brother  Barker  reads — "  'Be- 
fore she  travailed,  she  brought  forth  ;  before  her 
pain  came,  she  was  delivered  of  a  man  child. 
Who  hath  heard  such  a  thing?  who  hath  seen 
such  things?  Shall  the  earth  be  made  to  bring 
forth  in  one  day?  or  shall  a  nation  be  born  at 
once  ?  for  as  soon  as  Zion  travailed,  she  brought 
forth  her  children.'  Now  remember,"  contin- 
ues Brother  Barker,  leaning  one  elbow  on  the 
desk,  his  long  forefinger  demonstrating  the  jjoint 
— "  remember  what  has  been  proved  that,  as  the 
ecclesiastical  Zion  was  a  type  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment church,  so  the  political  Zion  was  equally 
an  emblem  of  the  central  nation  in  New  Testa- 
ment times — that  is,  America."  And  clearly 
does  the  preacher  apply  the  projihecy  to  the  in- 
stantaneous secession  of  the  South. 

"Turn  again  to  Daniel  twelfth,  seventh."  And 
Brother  Barker  finds  the  place  and  reads — 
"'When  he  shall  have  accomplished  to  scatter 
the  power  of  the  holy  people,  all  these  things 
shall  be  finished.'  Now,  who  are  the  holy  peo- 
ple?" asks  he.  "America,  of  course,  the  Chris- 
tian Israel.  What  was  their  being  scattered  ? 
Secession  evidently.  And  what  was  to  be  ac- 
complished then  and  thereby  ?  Look  at  the 
seventh  chapter  going  before:  the  establishment 
of  Christ's  last  and  most  glorious  nation — these 
Confederate  States!  Can  any  thing  be  more 
conclusive  ?"  And  Brother  Barker  goes  over 
the  passage  and  his  comment  thereuj)on  several 
times  to  impress  it  upon  the  minds  of  his  hear- 
ers.   Very  fixed  is  the  attention  of  those  hearers. 

"Once  more,  if  you  please.  Isaiah  twenty- 
seven,  twelve."  And  the  preacher  reads — "  'Ye 
shall  be  gathered  one  by  one,  O  ye  children  of 
Israel.'  The  exact  manner  of  Secession  !  No 
co-operation,  no  movement  out  of  the  Union  in 
a  body;  'one  by  one'  do  the  States  secede!" 
And  on  this  point  also  Brother  Barker  dwells  at 
length. 

"Let  us  turn  now  to  the  eleventh  of  Zecha- 
riah."  And  the  preacher  reads  tlie  chapter. 
"  By  the  breaking  of  the  st.aves  therein — '  Beau- 
ty and  Bands' — was  prophesied  the  dissolution 


of  the  Union.     The  three  shepherds  alluded  to 
in  the  ]>assage,  and  all    that  is   said  of  them 
I  there,  how  manifestly  it  refers  to  Missouri,  Mary- 
I  land,  Kentucky,  and  their  temporary  exclusion 
j  from  the   Confederacy !"     And  the  interest  is 
thrilling  as  Brother  Barker  shows  from  the  pas- 
sage how  the  North,  in  its  awful  destitution  and 
self-division,  are  to  "eat  the  flesh  of  one  an- 
other!" 

I      But  the  enthusiasm  of  the  preacher  overflows 
I  all  bounds  as  he  turns  to  the  fourth  chapter  of 
the  Prophet  Micah,  and  paints  therefrom  the 
millennial  splendor  of  the  Confederacy.     Over 
and  over  again  does  Brother  Barker  read  it. 
"  'In  that  day,  saith  the  Lord,  will  I  assemble 
I  her  that  haltuth,  and  I  will  gather  her  that  is 
,  driven  out — driven  out  /'  "  cries   the  preacher, 
I  " 'and  her  that  I  have  afilicted;  and  I  will  make 
.  her  that  halted  a  remnant,  and  her  that  was  cast 
far  oft'  a  strong  nation.'    Observe,  brethren,  'cast 
Jar  off,'  '«  stroncj  nation  !'    '  And  the  Loi'd  shall 
reign  over  them  in  Mount  Zion  from  henceforth, 
even  forever.'  "     And  so  to  the  end  of  the  chap- 
ter, at  which  the  speaker  arrives  entirely  ex- 
hausted. 

'  "Matthew  twenty-first,  forty-third,"  resumes 
he,  his  handkerchief  almost  drijiping  in  his  hand 
from  its  ser^-ice  upon  face  and  neck.  '"There- 
fore say  I  unto  you.  The  kingdom  of  God  shall 
be  taken  from  you,  and  given  to  a  nation  bring- 
ing forth  the  fruits  thereof.'  In  the  verse  before 
is  allusion  to  a  rejected  stone,"  reasons  the 
:  preacher.  "You  will  remember  we  saw  tiiis 
stone  all  through  Scripture ;  cut  out  of  the  mount- 
[  ain  of  the  old  Union ;  destined  to  destroy  and 
supersede  all  other  nations  is  the  Confederate 
[States ;  '  become  the  head  of  the  corner'  it  there 
says.  Why  ?  Because  the  Union,  the  old  Chris- 
tian Israel  had  failed — verse  forty-three — to  bring 
forth  fruit — fruit  which  the  Confederacy  will 
bring  forth !"  And  closing  the  Bible,  Brother 
Barker  describes  at  length  the  awful  ajjostasy 
of  the  North,  its  universal  infidelity  and  abom- 
inable wickedness.  "Ought  I  not  to  know?" 
he  asks,  in  conclusion.  "Am  not  I  a  Northern 
man?  born  there,  raised  there?  It  is  some- 
times asked  by  people,"  continues  the  preacher, 
with  both  hands  clenched  upon  the  ledge  of  his 
puljiit,  and  leaning  as  far  forward  as  possible 
between  them — "sometimes  asked  why  we  North- 
ern born  men  make  the  strongest  of  all  Seces- 
sionists.  I  will  tell  you,  brethren.  It  is  be- 
cause we  who  have  lived  at  the  North  know  the 
North  so  much  better  than  men  at  the  South. 
From  long,  personal,  close  observation  we  know 
,  the  North !"  And  what  intense  loathing  did 
the  preacher  infuse  into  the  word!  Strange  that 
his  audience  should  have  such  a  sense  of  distaste 
at  hearing  this  from  the  lips  of  one  born  there ! 
True,  of  course,  but  they  did  not  like  him  to  as- 
sert it.  The  Brother  is  conscious  of  this,  and 
falls  back  a  little  disconcerted  upon  the  thirty- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


117 


BKOTHliR   BAKKER. 


fourth  chapter  of  Ezekicl,  tlie  eighteenth  and 
nineteenth  verses. 

"You  need  not  take  my  word,  friends;    see 
what  Scripture  says  of  the  conduct  of  the  North." 


yon  to  have  eaten  up  the  good  pasture,  but  yc 
must  tread  down  with  your  feet  the  residue  of 
your  pastures?  and  to  have  drunk  of  the  deeji 
waters,  but  ye  must  foul  the  residue  with  youi 


And  be  reads—"'  Seemcth  it  a  small  thing  unto  I  feet?     And  as  for  my  flock,  they  eat  that  which 


lis 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ye  have  trodden  with  your  feet ;  and  they  drink 
that  which  ye  have  fouled  with  your  feet.' "  And 
the  minister  illustrates  this  prophecy  of  the  tyr- 
anny of  the  North  over  the  South  by  its  course 
in  regard  to  the  Tariff  and  the  Territories,  con- 
soling; himself  with  the  speedy  righting  of  the 
South,  prophesied  so  clearly  in  the  verses  which 
follow. 

"Some  of  you  have  been  rather  trying  to  joke 
me  about  my  last  sermon  here,"  the  preacher 
says,  by  way  of  digression.  "True,  I  did  be- 
lieve then  that  M'Clellan  was  defeated  and  cap- 
tured. Suppose  it  was  not  so  complete  a  defeat 
as  we  then  supposed  ;  and  where  is  that  one  of 
us  that  had  any  doubt  on  the  subject  then  ?  Look 
again  at  my  text  of  that  sermon  :  '  I  will  remove 
far  off  from  yon  the  Northern  Army,  and  will 
drive  him  into  a  land  barren  and  desolate,  with 
his  face  toward  the  east  sea,  and  his  hinder  part 
toward  the  utmost  sea,  and  his  stink  shall  come 
up,  and  his  ill  savor  shall  come  up  because  he 
hath  done  great  things.'  Is  there  a  man  that 
does  not  see  that  Scripture  refers  here  to  Lin- 
coln's army,  by  its  very  name,  too  ?  I  need  not 
enter  into  this  passage  again.  If  it  has  not  been 
fulfilled  entirely  yet,  it  certainly  will  be,  and  that 
soon.  But  let  us  turn  to  Daniel  again,  seven, 
eighteen,  this  time.  'The  saints  of  the  Most 
High  shall  take  the  kingdom,  and  possess  the 
kingdom  for  ever,  even  for  ever  and  ever.'  Now 
what  does  'saint'  mean  when  applied,  as  Scrip- 
ture means  it  should  be  here,  to  a  government  ? 
Why,  it  means  a  mild,  a  gentle  government. 
Friends,  contrast  the  Confederacy  with  the  old 
Federal  Government.  That  bound  the  States 
together  strong  and  hard;  ruled  them  with  a  rod 
of  iron ;  the  most  despotic  Government,  as  this 
war  shows,  that  ever  disgraced  the  earth.  But 
our  glorious  Confederacy !  How  perfectly  mild 
and  easy  it  is !  The  States  are  free  to  go  and 
come  under  it  as  each  one  pleases,  no  restraint, 
no  coercion.  The  North  is  invading  us — does 
our  Confederacy  invade  them  ?  No,  brethren. 
It  only  asked  to  be  allowed  to  go  out  of  the 
Union  in  peace.  It  did  not  want  a  war.  It 
never  dreamed  of  a  war.  This  day  it  is  the  gen- 
tlest, most  peaceable,  most  lenient;  the  lightest, 
easiest  government  the  world  ever  saw.  No  won- 
der Scripture  speaks  of  it  under  the  name  of 
'  saint.'  Ah,  if  the  North  could  but  come  up  to 
the  true  idea  of  all  government  in  this  nine- 
teenth century;  the  millennial,  the  Christian  idea 
of  government — States  free  as  air  to  vote  them- 
selves whichever  way  they  like  !  Instead  of 
that,  what  do  we  see?  Why,  the  old  heathen 
ideas  of  permanent  rule,  coercion,  war!  I  tell 
you,  friends,  Secession  contains  in  itself  the  very 
essence  of  Christian  freedom ;  it  is  a  Gospel  doc- 
trine ;  it  is  the  very  germ  and  substance  of  all 
human  organization  in  millennial  times!"  And 
largely  did  Brother  Barker  expatiate  on  this 
theme. 


"Bear  with  me,  brethren,"  he  continues,  as 
he  searches  the  ])ages  of  his  Bible.  "  1  want  to 
show  you  anoth — ah,  here  it  is!  Zechariah  thir- 
teen, from  the  seventh  verse."  And  here  the 
pen  recoils  from  recording  in  such  connection 
the  first,  at  least,  of  the  verses  quoted  by  the 
preacher.  By  "the  man  that  is  my  fellow" 
Scripture  meant,  according  to  him,  the  "one 
like  unto  the  Son  of  man"  referred  to  in  Dan- 
iel ;  in  other  words,  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment. " '  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  in  all 
the  land,'"  continued  the  preacher  from  his 
Bible,  "  'saith  the  Lord,  two  parts  therein  shall 
be  cut  off  and  die ;  but  the  third  shall  be  left 
therein.'  When  we  seceded  there  were  thirty- 
three  States,  you  know,"  continued  the  preach- 
er, holding  his  finger  upon  the  passage  for  after 
use.  "  Three  classes  there  were  among  these 
thirty-three  States.  First,  the  Border  States ; 
second,  the  Coercion  or  Northern  States ;  third, 
the  Confederate  States,  eleven,  you  obsen-e;  just 
a  third  of  thirty-three.  The  two  parts  cut  off 
from  God's  new  and  glorious  nation,  our  Con- 
federacy, shall  die,  you  see,  be  defeated,  destroy- 
ed, perish — the  Border  and  the  Northern  States. 
The  third — our  Confederacy — shall  be  left  in  the 
land  in  permanence  and  prosperity.  And  look 
how  our  trouble  from  the  blockade  and  the  war 
is  farther  prophesied — verse  nine — 'And  I  will 
bring  the  third  part  through  the  fire,  and  will  re- 
fine tliem  as  silver  is  refined,  and  will  try  them 
as  gold  is  tried  :  they  shall  call  on  my  name, 
and  I  will  hear  them :  I  will  say.  It  is  my  peo- 
ple: and  they  sh.ill  say,  The  Lord  is  my  God.'  " 

But  it  is  impossible  to  follow  Brother  Barker. 
Only  the  intense  excitement  attaching  to  every 
syllable  said  by  any  one  on  the  one  topic  enabled 
the  audience  to  sit  so  patiently  under  his  elo- 
quence. Less  than  twenty  minutes  of  a  dis- 
course from  his  lips  on  any  other  topic  would 
have  wearied  them  out.  There  was  a  force,  too, 
in  the  glowing  enthusiasm  of  the  speaker.  Who- 
ever else  did  not  he  at  least  did  believe  in  his 
interpretations  of  prophecy.  Need  we  say  how- 
he  described  the  impending  convulsions  at  the 
North  from  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Revelation, 
the  nineteenth  verse?  Or  the  rout  at  Manassas 
and  in  all  the  other  battles  of  the  war,  as  fore- 
told in  the  forty-eighth  Psalm,  fourth,  fifth,  and 
sixth  verses?  Or  the  future  influence  of  the 
Confederacy  over  the  world  in  the  nineteenth 
chapter  of  Revelation,  the  fifteenth  verse,  the 
"rod  of  iron"  referring  to  its  commercial,  and 
"the  sword  out  of  his  mouth"  referring  to  its 
moral  influence?  That  Secession  was  the  act 
of  God  himself,  He  setting  up  the  Confederacy 
with  his  own  hand.  Brother  Barker  proved  from 
the  second  chapter  of  Daniel,  the  forty-fourth 
verse.  The  peculiar  estimation  set  by  Heaven 
upon  the  same  Government,  from  Isaiah  the 
:  twenty-eighth  chapter  and  fifth  verse.  And  that 
I  the  Almighty  himself  was  fighting  for  them  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


110 


prophet  Zechnriah  has  left  beyond  question  in 
the  fourteenth  chapter  and  third  verse  of  his  ^ 
prophecy.  Let  those  who  wish  to  study  the 
theological  aspect  of  the  insanity  of  the  times 
refer  to  the  chapters  and  verses  sjiecilied  at  their 
leisure.  Let  them  remember  in  doing  so  liuit 
there  were  men  who  sincerely  believeil  in  Hroth- 
er  Barker's  application  of  them,  and  a  new  in- 
sight will  be  had  into  the  depth  and  desperation 
of  that  insanity. 

But  the  preacher  has  reserved  some  of  his 
most  telling  tests  to  the  last. 

'•  In  my  previous  discourse  I  showed  you,"  said 
he,  "that  in  Scripture  the  number  seven  refers 
to  the  seven  States  that  fust  seceded.  Permit 
your  humble  speaker  to  give  you  a  few  more  il- 
lustrations of  this  most  striking  fact."  And  so  he 
drains  the  last  drop  of  water  from  the  pitcher, 
full  when  he  began,  pulls  down  his  waistcoat  by 
the  lower  edge,  moves  pitcher  and  glass  out  of 
his  way  by  placing  them  on  the  bencli  behind 
him,  and  resumes : 

"Micah,  brethren,  fifth,  fifth.  'Then  shall 
we  raise  against  him  seven  shepherds  and  eight 
principal  men.'"  And  clearly  is  it  jiroved  that 
while  the  seven  principal  men  means  the  seven 
States  which  first  seceded,  it  is  Virginia,  seced- 
ing when  the  Federal  Government  had  become 
"Assyrian"  in  its  attitude  toward  God's  chosen, 
which  makes  the  eighth. 

"Once  more,  brethren.     Isaiah  fourth,  first." 
And  transfixing  the  j)assage  with  the  forefinger 
of  his  left  hand,  with  the  other  liand  he  entreats 
special  attention.     "  'And  in  that  day  seven  wo- 
men shall  take  hold  of  one  man,  saying,  "We  will 
eat  our  own  bread,  and  wear  our  own  apparel ; 
only  let  us  be  called  by  thy  name,  to  take  away 
our  reproach.'"     Dull  indeed  must  his  brethren 
be  if  they  do  not  see  the  singular  and  striking 
meaning  of  this  at  a  glance.     The  seven  women 
are  the   seven   States   in   a  desolate  condition 
when  they  first  seceded.     Instantly  they  all  lay 
hold  of  one. man.    "  You  see  it,  brethren  !    They 
take  the  Confederate  Government  to  be  a  hus- 
band over  them.     Each  is  to  remain,  you  ob- 
ser^'e,  an  independent  State ;  insists  on  feeding 
and  clothing  itself;  they  only  want  the  Confed- 
erate Government  as  a  sort  of  protector.     The 
reference  of  Scripture  to  our  new  nation  is  as 
minute  as  it  is  abunilant.    Who  can  doubt,  then, 
the  peculiar  regard  had  for  us  by  the  Almighty  ? 
"Once  more,  but  once,  though  you  can  not 
but  observe  how  exhausted  I  am.      Jeremiah 
fifteen,  nine.     'She  that  hath  borne  seven  lan- 
guisheth  :  she  hath  given  up  the  ghost;  her  sun 
is  gone  down  while  it  was  yet  day.' "    The  old 
Union  is  this  unhappy  mother;  and  its  fate,  aft- 
er the  departure  of  the  seven  seceding  States, 
its  utter  destruction  in   mid  career !     Brother 
Barker  surpa.sses  himself  in  the  delineation  there- 
of.    When  ho  ceases  at  last  it  is  solely  because 
he  is  physically  unable  to  articulate  another  syl- 


lable. And  then  lie  holds  foith  his  long  arm, 
his  heavy-lidded  eyes  almost  shut,  and  stands 
for  minutes  exhausted  but  triumphant,  iu  the 
attitude  of  a  (•oii(|ueror'*ver  his  captives. 

Fanaticism  ?  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  sect 
merely  as  a  sect ;  it  is  temperament.  Look  at 
Brother  Barker  as  he  stands.  That  narrow  fore- 
head, that  lank  hair,  those  restless  gray  eyes, 
those  incessant  hands.  Had  that  man  been 
cradled  in  Koehester  and  Mormonisni  he  would 
have  been  Danitc,  apostle,  leader  of  the  delu- 
sion. Had  lie  come  into  the  vortex  of  Spiritu- 
alism, no  man  would  have  whirled  more  nuidly 
on  its  ra])id  error.  Oidy  let  him  have  had  a 
hint  in  time  of  Father  Miller's  theory  of  the  end 
of  the  world,  and  no  man  alive  would  have  been 
more  positively  certain  than  he  that  the  world 
was  to  end  on  the  second  day  of  June,  18-13,  at 
jireeisely  half  past  two  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  Scripture  for  it  ?  The  Bible  for  this,  that, 
and  the  other,  whatever  the  fancy  be  he  flies  oflf 
upon  ?  He  could  find  you  passages  innumera- 
ble, passages  clear  beyond  all  skepticism,  pas- 
sages so  perfectly  convincing  of  his  theory  that, 
it  pains  him  to  say  it,  but  you  are  an  infidel  if 
you  hesitate  to  believe.  Or  place  a  red  conical 
cap  upon  that  small,  narrow  head  ;  strip  off  the 
suit  of  rusty  black,  and  wrap  Brother  Barker's 
loins  about  with  a  cow's  skin  instead ;  give  him 
a  twirl  by  the  shoulders,  and  no  Dervish  along 
the  Golden  Horn  would  revolve  more  frantically 
on  his  heel,  or  yell  with  greater  strength  of  con- 
viction and  lungs  than  he. 

But  the  evil  is,  Brother  Barker  is  not  content 
to  revolve  and  howl  himself:  he  is  for  war  on 
all  the  world  if  it  fails  to  spin  and  scream  with 
him.  Riding  one's  hobby  is  an  innocent  amuse- 
ment enough.  Did  not  LIncle  Toby  ride  his 
hobby?  Only  Uncle  Toby  never  rode  his  hobby 
over  any  one  else ;  and  that  is  nine-tenths  of 
the  pleasure  of  the  ride  with  Brother  Barker. 

Dr.  Warner  had  once  remarked  to  his  wife 
that  Brother  Barker  was  afflicted  with  a  species 
of  moral  "cutaneousness,"  by  which  he  meant, 
as  he  explained  to  his  wife  on  demand,  that  the 
Brother  was  forever  breaking  out  all  over  in  a 
sudden  rash  of  spirit  and  tongue  whatever  heat 
happened  to  be  in  the  atmosphere.  It  mattered 
not  a  straw  the  nature  of  the  heat ;  from  the 
first  the  hottest  of  the  heated  was  Brother  Barker. 

At  the  time  Mrs.  Warner  entirely  agreed  with 
her  husband  ;  and  the  defect  of  character  being 
her  own  also,  so  repeated  and  dejdorod  the  fact 
as  to  lose  the  Doctor  nigh  a  score  of  patients, 
the  members  of  the  Brother's  church.     To  da 
her  justice,  however,  when  the  preacher  went  in 
I  for  Secession  with  Mrs.  Warner,  that  lady  re- 
I  traded  in  every  circle  this  injurious  opinion  of 
him,  and  mournfully  ascribed  such  an  impres- 
!  sion  on  the  mind  of  the  Doctor  to  "bis  abom- 
inable Union  notions." 
i      Nadab  and  Abihn?    Alas,  the  censer  of  this 


120 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


minister  never  glowcil  except  with  "stran};e 
fire."  Most  of  liis  ministry  liad  been  spent  in 
onslaughts  upon  otlier  denominations,  and  it  was 
wonderful  the  skill  with  which  he  platted  de- 
tached passages  from  Scripture  like  so  many 
separate  tliongs  into  scourges  for  his  foes ;  for 
all  who  did  not  agree  with  him  were  foes,  actual 
and  active  foes  to  be  met  and  defeated  as  such. 
Neutrality?  No  more  than  moderation  was 
there  an  atom  of  it  in  his  character;  therefore 
he  could  not  conceive  of  its  existence  in  that  of 
anv  one  else.  And  when  Brother  Barker  did 
preach  the  Gospel,  it  was  in  tones  so  vehement, 
so  unlike  the  gentle  accents  of  his  Master,  that 
the  very  Gospel  heaven,  and  Gospel  hell,  and 
Gospel  salvation  savored  too  strongly  of  the  min- 
ister himself  to  have  their  due  influence.  Even 
the  wind  which  bloweth  as  it  listeth  never  blew 
at  all  in  his  estimation  save  as  it  blew  exactly 
when  and  where  he  would  have  it,  and  in  a  hur- 
ricane at  that. 

"Just  one  thing  more,  my  friends,"  says 
Brother  Barker,  as  soon  as  he  has  recovered 
voice  enough  for  the  purpose.  "When  I  was 
explaining  just  now  thatprophecy  from  Daniel 
about  the  saint-like  character  of  our  Confeder- 
acy, its  being,  in  other  words,  the  mildest  gov- 
ernment the  world  ever  knew,  so  mild  as  to  be 
almost  no  government  at  all,  just  there,  breth- 
ren, I  saw  a  gentleman  in  this  congregation 
shake  his  head.  I  ought  to  have  stopped  and 
spoken  of  it  on  the  spot.  The  truth  is,  I  was 
under  such  headway  I  could  not  stop  then.  Let 
us  now  ask  the  Brother ;»%  he  shook  his  head  ? " 

There  is  instant  and  intense  excitement  in  the 
audience,  the  deep  stir  within  the  heart  of  war. 
The  minister  stanils  silent  for  some  minutes,  but 
no  one  stirs  or  speaks. 

"I  believe  you  are  the  friend  that  shook  his 
head,"  the  preacher  remarks,  and  his  long  finger 
indicates  a  man  among  the  congregation.  An  un- 
usually large  and  tall  man  it  is,  a  cons)>icuous 
object  on  account  of  towering  above  those  around 
as  he  sits.  A  large  sun-burnt  face,  plenty  of 
black  hair  and  whiskers,  butternut  coat  and  pan- 
taloons, no  waistcoat,  hickory  sliirt,  cojiious  use 
of  tobacco  in  the  way  of  chewing — nothing  else 
noticeable. 

"Paul  Brooks,  I  think,"  adds  the  preacher, 
all  the  St.  Dominic  and  the  Torquemada  stir- 
ring in  his  veins. 

"Me!"  exclaims  the  gentleman  designated, 
after  a  torrent  of  ambier.  "Did  /shake  my 
head?" 

"Yes,  Sir,  you  did,"  says  the  inquisitor,  sol- 
emnly, and  in  the  discharge  of  a  painful  duty. 

"  I  did,  heh  ?  I  didn't  know  it.  But  I  know 
I  thought  No  very  strong  just  there.  Now  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  I  dare  say  I  did."  The  speaker 
says  this  coolly  enough,  but  he  knows  the  peril 
he  has  incurred,  feels  it  creep  along  his  bones, 
Kentuckian  as  he  is,  even  more  than  he  acknowl- 


edges it  in  his  mind.  There  is  breathless,  pain- 
ful silence. 

"May  I  ask  why — may  this  intelligent  au- 
dience of  Southern  citizens  ask  why  you  shook 
your  head  ?"  The  preacher  speaks  as  to  a  crim- 
inal condemned.  lie  will  let  him  say  why  sen- 
tence of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  him, 
however. 

"\Vhen  I  shook  my  head,  though  I  didn't 
know  till  now  that  I  did  it,"  replies  Paul  Brooks, 
"it  was  when  you  made  Scripture  say  this  new 
movement  was  the  freest  and  mildest  Govern- 
ment on  earth.  What  I  meant  by  shaking  my 
head  was — conscrij)tion  and  martial  law." 

The  preacher  hears  him  in  silence ;  then  only 
draws  together  his  lips  to  restrain  unspeakable 
words,  shakes  his  head  in  the  deepest  sorrow, 
and  takes  up  his  hynm-book. 

"Forty-sixth  I'salin,  second  part,  long  meas- 
ure," he  begins. 

"Will  you  excuse  me  one  minute?"  says  the 
Kentuckian.  "I  don't  like  to  mention  such 
things  seeing  it's  Sunday.  You  won't  object,  I 
sui)])ose ;  and  I  think  a  good  many  of  us  would 
be  interested." 

The  preacher  pauses,  hymn-book  in  hand,  with 
the  air  of  a  martyr  at  the  stake,  assaulted  but 
patient. 

"  You  say  Scripture  speaks  plainly  of  this  new 
movement?"  asks  the  Kentuckian. 

The  preacher  assents  with  a  low  bow  of  the 
head.  There  is  something  indescribable  in  it. 
It  is  as  of  a  judge  on  the  bench  to  some  unrea- 
sonable prisoner  whose  fate  is  already  settled. 

"And  we  must  take  exactly  what  Scripture 
says  of  this  movement — that  is,  what  Scripture 
may  seem  to  say  about  it?" 

Brother  Barker  smiles  a  sad  but  patient  as- 
sent. 

"  And  we,  as  good  Christians,  must  obey  what 
it  says  in  reference  to  this  movement  to  the  let- 
ter?" 

The  Kentuckian  retains  his  scat,  but  spits  co- 
piously between  each  question. 

"By  movement  I  sui)pose  yon  mean  our  glori- 
ous Confederacy,"  replies  the  preacher,  ajtjjcal- 
ing  with  both  hands  to  the  audience  in  sorrow- 
ful deprecation. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  the  Kentuckian,  very  mildly, 
even  persuasively. 

"You  have  some  intention  in  your  question,  I 
see  that.  But  j-es.  Sir,  yes.  What  Scrijjture 
says  of  our  Confederacy — and  it  alludes  to  it  con- 
tinually and  jiointedly — we  must  do.  Of  course." 
And  the  preaclier  loses  a  little  of  the  martyr  as 
he  stands  on  the  defensive. 

"There  are  one  or  two  texts  in  Scripture," 
begins  the  Kentuckian. 

But  "  Brother  Barker  was  shai-p  as  a  steel- 
trap,"  as  was  afterward  remarked  by  some  then 
present.  "Exactly  as  I  thought,"  he  interrupts, 
at  the  same  time  closing  his  Bible  and  pushing 


INSIDK.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


121 


it  away  from  liiiii.  "No,  Mr.  Brooks,  I  will 
not  read  those  passages.  For  one,  I  can  not,  I 
dare  not  make  siah  mockery  of  the  word  of  God." 
"Nothing  more  to  say,"  remarks  the  Ken- 
tuckian,  and  so  expectorates  and  subsides  into 
his  former  indolent  position  on  the  rude  scat  he 
occiijiies. 

"Forty-sixth  Psalm,  second  part,  long  meas- 
ure!" says  the  preacher,  biiskly,  and  with  some 
cmpiiasis,  hymn-book  in  hand. 

"Hold  on  a  moment.  Brother  Barker!"  It 
is  an  old  man  seated,  witli  a  staff  between  his 
knees,  near  the  pulpit.  "  I  don't  like  tliis  way 
of  doing  things  on  a  Sunday,  and  in  meetin'. 
But  now  wc  arc  at  it  friends  i)resent  would  like 
to  liuar  you  read  them  jiassages;  every  tiling 
bearing  on  the  pint  is  interesting." 

The  preacher  acknowledges  the  movement  of 
assent  among  the  crowded  audience.  But  he 
can  not  comjjly. 

"No,  Brother  Robinson,  if  I  would  I  could. 
As  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  standing  liere  in 
this  sacred  place,  I  can  not,  I  dare  not  make 
mockery  of  God's  blessed  book." 

"The  shortest  way  is,  let  lue  read  them  then. 
Friends  present  want  to  hear.  No  danger  of 
Scripture  hurting  any  of  us  whatever  part  it  is. 
Name  the  texts,  Mr.  Brooks."  And  Brother 
Robinson,  the  patriarch  of  the  neighborhood,  is 
standing  before  the  pulpit,  the  minister's  Bible 
in  hand. 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  disturbing  the  meet- 
ing," began  the  Kentuckian. 

"  Passages,  Mr.  Brooks ;  you  name  them  pas- 
sages," interrupted  the  patriarch. 

The  Kentuckian  names  the  eighty-third  Psalm, 
the  first  five  verses.  The  patriarch  is  a  long  time 
finding  the  place.  Brother  Barker  leans,  with  a 
patient  smile,  on  his  elbow,  rested  upon  the  pulpit. 
" '  Keep  not  thou  silence,  O  God ;  hold  not 
thy  peace,  and  be  not  still,  O  God.  For,  lo, 
thine  enemies  make  a  tumult:  and  they  that 
hate  thee  have  lifted  up  the  head.  They  have 
taken  crafty  counsel  against  thy  people,  and  con- 
sulted against  thy  hidden  ones.  They  have  said, 
Come,  and  let  us  cut  them  off  from  being  a  na- 
tion ;  that  the  name  of  Israel  may  be  no  more 
in  rcmembr.nnee.  For  they  have  consulted  to- 
gether with  one  consent :  the}'  are  confederate 
against  thee. '  Humph,  confederate  against  thee !" 
The  patriarch  has  read  the  passage  very  slowly. 
Brother  Barker  groans. 
"Hold  on,"  he  says;  "Brother  Barker  has 
just  told  us  how  one-third  of  the  States — eleven, 
that  is — are  the  Confederacy  Scripture  speaks  of. 
I  see  the  ones  confederated  together  in  this  place 
are  mentioned  lower  down.  Let's  count."  And 
the  patriarch  transfers  the  Bible  to  his  left  hand, 
while  he  counts  aloud  with  the  fingers  of  his 
right  upon  the  stand:  "Ednm,  Isbmaelites, 
.Moab,  Hagarenes,  Gebal,  Ammon,  Amabk, 
Philistines,   inhabitants   of  Tyre,    Assnr,   chil- 


dren of  Lot — by  jingo,  eleven  exactly!"     Deep 
sensation  among  the  audience. 
I      "Any  more  places,  Brotlier  Brooks?"  he  asks, 
after  a  long  pause,  during  whicli  he  is  counting 
I  over  again  to  be  certain.     "Out  with  it,  Broth- 
er— yes,  eleven  exactly !" 
I       "  Isaiaii  scventli,  second,  third,   fourth,  and 
'  seventh  verses,"  from  Paul  Brooks.     Breatldess 
attention. 

"  'And  it  was  told  the  house  of  David,  say- 
ing, Syria  is  confederate  with  Ephraim.'  Con- 
federate ?  Yes,  well.  '  And  his  heart  was  moved, 
and  the  heart  of  his  people,  as  the  trees  of  the 
wood  are  moved  with  the  wind.  Then  said  the 
Lord  unto  Isaiah,  Go  forth  now  to  meet  Ahaz, 
and  say  unto  him,  Take  heed,  and  be  quiet; 
fear  not,  neither  be  fainthearted  for  the  two  tails 
of  these  smoking  firebrands.  Thus  saith  the 
Lord  God,  It  shall  not  stand,  neither  shall  it 
come  to  pass.'     Humph,  queer!" 

There  is  a  movement  of  interest  in  the  con- 
gregation as  the  reader  ceases. 

"My  friends,"  begins  Brother  Barker,  hold- 
ing up  his  right  hand. 

"In  one  moment.  Brother  Barker,"  the  patri- 
arch interrupts  him.  "Any  more  passages,  ^Ir. 
Brooks  ?" 

"I  was  told  Mr.  Barker  found  a  good  deal 
about  the  Confederacy  in  the  Bible.  I  ha]ipen- 
ed  one  day  in  Somerville  to  come  across  a  Con- 
cordance, and  hunted  out  the  places  where  the 
word  occurs.  Our  preacher  says  the  Jews  were 
emblems  of  this  country,  so  I  thought  the  word 
in  their  history  might  teach  something.  How- 
ever, only  two  passages  more.  Let  nie  study  a 
moment.  Ah,  yes — Obadiah,  seventh  verse," 
says  Paul  Brooks. 

"Chapter?"  asks  Brother  Robinson,  turning 
over  the  leaves. 

"Ain't  any  chapter,  seventh  verse." 

"  'All  the  men  of  thy  confederacy  have  brought 
thee  even  to  the  border :  the  men  that  were  at 
peace  with  thee  have  deceived  thee,  and  pre- 
vailed against  thee :  they  that  eat  thy  bread 
have  laid  a  wound  under  thee :  there  is  none  un- 
derstanding in  him,' "  reads  the  patriarch.  The 
very  slow  manner  in  which  the  passage  is  read  is 
itself  almost  equal  to  a  running  comment  upon 
it.     The  interest  in  the  congregation  decjicns. 

"Only  one  more:  Isaiah,  eighth  chapter, 
ninth  verse,"  says  Paul  Brooks. 

"  'Associate  yourselves,  O  ye  people,  and  ye 
shall  be  broken  in  pieces ;  and  give  ear,  all  ye 
of  far  countries :  gird  yourselves,  and  ye  shall 
be  broken  in  pieces ;  gird  yourselves,  and  \e 
shall  be  broken  in  pieces.  Take  coun.sel  to- 
gether, and  it  shall  come  to  nought ;  speak  the 
word,  and  it  shall  not  stand — '  But  there  ain't 
any  thing  about  the  Confederacy  in  this,"  says 
the  patriarch,  looking  up. 

"Go  on,"  says  the  Kentuckian,  with  a  copious 
expectoration  first. 


122 


INSIDE.— A  CHKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


'"For  the  Lord  spake  thus  to  me,'"  the 
reader  continued,  "'with  a  strong  hand,  and 
instructed  me  that  I  should  not  walk  in  the  way 
of  this  people,  saying,  Say  ye  not,  A  confeder- 
acy, to  all  them  to  whom  this  peoj)le  shall  say, 
A  confederacy ;  neither  fear  ye  their  fear,  nor 
be  afraid.' " 

"That's  all,"  said  Paul  Brooks. 

The  reader  closed  the  volume,  laid  it  on  the 
pul])it,  and  took  his  seat,  resting  his  chin  again 
on  the  staft'  between  his  knees.     Dead  silence. 

"  And  do  you,  Sir,"  said  the  preacher,  severe- 
ly— "do  you.  Sir,  say  to  this  intelligent  Chris- 
tian, intelligent  .S'o!</Aern  congregation,  that  those 
])assages  have  reference  to  our  glorious  young 
nation?" 

"  I  say  nothing  about  it.  You  all  bear  me 
witness  yoK  attacked  me  first.  I  only  say,  if  all 
yotir  places  in  the  Bible  mean  as  you  say,  what 
do  these  other  places  mean?"  And  in  the  si- 
lence that  follows  the  splash  of  the  Kentuckian's 
indignant  expectoration  is  distinctly  heard. 

"I  have  read,  I  have  heard  of  awful  perver- 
sions of  this  blessed  and  sacred  book,  brethren," 
says  Brother  Barker,  after  a  pause,  and  in  deep 
and  measured  tones;  "  but  such  an  awful  dese- 
cration and  wresting  of  Scripture  I  never  heard 
in  my  life.  On  Sunday!  In  this  holy  place! 
During  the  very  hour  of  divine  worship !  Only 
this  one  thing  I've  got  to  say,  brethren" — and  the 
preacher  leaned  over  his  jiulpit  toward  his  audi- 
ence, and  spoke  in  low,  significant  tones — "I've 
been  told  before  Paul  Brooks  is  a  Union  man ; 
now  I  know  it  from  his  own  lips !"  And  the 
brother  drew  himself  back,  as  with  a  calmness 
awful  to  behold.  "  Forty-sixth  Psalm,  second 
part,  long  measure.  Brother  Stevens  will  please 
raise  the  tune,  my  bleeding  lungs  will  not  per- 
mit." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

At  the  same  hour  in  which  Brother  Barker  is 
preaching  the  Gospel — according  to  Jefferson 
Davis — at  the  Pines,  Edward  Arthur  is  preach- 
ing another  Gospel — that  according  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ — in  his  church  in  Somerville.  And 
he  and  his  comparatively  few  hearers  know  that 
he  has  got  such  a  grasp  upon  the  very  substance 
and  essence  of  that  good  news  to  men  as  he  never 
had  before.  Yes,  he,  and  multitudes  like  him  at 
the  South,  in  ever  deepening  despair  of  things 
human  in  these  days,  are  looking  to  the  Gospel 
and  to  the  living  God,  of  whom  that  sacred  paper 
is  but  the  transparent  drapery,  with  an  ever-in- 
creasing singleness  and  intensity  to  which  all 
l)revious  experience  is  tame  indeed. 

"It's  the  last  time,  the  very  last  time,  you 
catch  me  a-hearing  him,"  Mrs.  Warner  had  re- 
marked a  few  Sabbaths  ago  as  she  walked  her 
portly  husband   home  from   church.      "Yes,  I 


know  it,  I  did  say  before  this  I  never  would  go 
again,  and  I  haven't  been,  you  well  know,  for 
cvrr  so  long.  But  I  thought  that  to  -  day, 
Thanksgiving  Day  for  our  glorious  victory  over 
M'Clellan,  he  certainly  would  come  out  for  the 
Confederacy,  and  be  down  at  last  upon  the 
Yankees.  And  look  at  it.  All  that  sermon  of 
his  to-day  only  a-trying  to  prove  what  terrible 
sinners  we  are  instead,  telling  over  all  our  sins. 
Not  one  word  about  the  vile  wickedness  of  the 
Yankees." 

"Why  he  said,  Helen,"  ventured  the  Doctor, 
"that,  whatever  were  the  human  instruments 
of  chastisement  employed,  the  Almighty  would 
deal  in  strictest  justice  with  them  as  with  us. 
You  sec  he  wants  us  to  look  more  at  that  for 
which  we  are  being  punished  than  at  the  pun- 
ishment itself;  he  says  that  if  we  do  not  we  will 
be  more  and  more  punished  by  Him  until  we  do. 
For  one,"  added  the  Doctor,  rashly,  "I  agree 
with  Mr.  Arthur  entirely  I" 

But  the  Doctor  never  would  have  said  this 
save  from  the  warmth  of  just  having  heard  the 
sermon. 

"  It's  his  influence  has  ruined  you  ;  he's  a  trai- 
tor, a  Yankee,  a  vile  Abolitionist!"  says  Mrs. 
Warner,  and  so  decidedly  that  Alice  Bowles, 
walking  home  alone  from  church,  can  not  choose 
but  hear.  "Always  insisting  and  insisting  upon 
our  sins,"  says  Mrs.  Warner,  "as  if  we  are  not 
a  million  times  better  than  the  Yankees.  Talk- 
ing, too,  about  the  Almighty,  as  \i  He  had  any 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


123 


hand  in  this  wicked  war  upon  us — it's  awful! 
Look  here,  Dr.  Warner,  "  adds  his  wife  in  a  sud- 
den change  of  tone,  as  a  light  breaks  on  her, 
"I've  got  it  now !  The  one  great  sin  tlie  South 
is  being  punished  for  is  Slavery.  Tliat's  his 
idea.  Ah,  hah.  Yes,  oh  yes,  I  see!  The  Al- 
mighty is  so  angry  with  us  because  we  own 
slaves  he  is  using  the  Yankees  to  chastise  us — 
chastise  us,  as  if  they  could  do  it! — for  that." 
"  Has  he  ever  said  so?"  begins  tlie  Ductor. 
"  Hah,  I  remember  now.  That's  why  he  has 
never  preached  a  sermon — never,  on  the  Bililo 
command  to  us  to  hold  slaves.  Brother  Barker 
— why  there's  not  one  preacher  I  know  of  but 
has  done  so  often.     E.xactly  !" 

*'I  am  astonished  at  you,  Helen,"  says  Dr. 
Warner,  a  new  light,  of  somewhat  difi'erent  hue, 
breaking  on  him  also.  "You  well  know  he  has 
often  urged  on  us — taking  the  institution  for 
granted — to  instruct  our  negroes — " 

"  Wants  us  to  see  to  it  that  they  are  actually 
married  and  all  that — as  if  a  negro  ever  does 
more  than  take  up  with  a  husband  or  wife  for  a 
while ;  and  as  if  virtuous  white  ladies  were  going 
to  meddle  in  such  things !  Catch  me !  Some- 
thing about  the  duties  of  negro  parents  to  their 
children  too.  Parents!  I  tell  you.  Dr.  War- 
ner," adds  his  clear-spoken  partner,  "all  such 
stuff  is  inconsistent  with  the  institution.  To 
preach  it  is  to  preach  Abolitionism,  that's  all. 
It  may  deceive  you,  but  it  can't  deceive  me,  so 
I  tell  you.  And  that  he,  a  Southern  man,  that 
has  lived  here  so  long — " 

Dr.  Warner  walks  with  drooped  head  beside 
his  wife  while  she  is  exhausting  herself  upon  the 
subject.  Not  that  he  hears  a  word  she  says. 
That  Sunday  morning  when  his  pastor  an- 
nounced his  settled  purpose  to  confine  himself 
exclusively  to  his  Spiritual  duties  comes  up  be- 
fore him.  People  aguced  that  was  a  pastor's 
only  true  coarse  then — now  it  is  disloyal.  Mr. 
Arthur's  is  a  peculiar  position.  Once,  at  least, 
during  the  week,  the  bell  of  every  other  church 
in  Somer\'ille  summons  the  congregation  to  a 
special  prayer-meeting  for  the  success  of  the 
Confederacy ;  alone  of  the  churches  Mr.  Ar- 
thur's remains  closed,  his  bell  silent.  The  only 
exception  to  the  preachers  in  and  around  Somer- 
ville,  and  there  are  a  great  many  of  them,  one 
never  sees  him  on  the  streets  laughing  and  shak- 
ing hands  over  the  last  glorious  news,  or  clap- 
ping and  stamping  at  the  public  meetings.  Not 
once  has  he  even  been  seen  at  the  aforesaid 
prayer-meetings,  where  Sam  Peters  prays  till  he 
can  only  gasp  for  the  swift  and  utter  destruction 
of  the  Y'ankees.  "By  the  sword,  Lord,  by  the 
yellow  fever.  Lord.  Like  Gideon's  foes,  by  one 
another,  Lord ;  any  way,  good  Lord,  any  way, 
every  way,  so  that  thou  only  out  of  thy  unwast- 
ing  fullness  speedily  destroy  them !"  Where 
Brother  Barker,  too,  rises  in  prayer  to  such 
heights  of  expostulation  as  well  as  entreaty  as 


he  had  never  dreamed  of  even  at  the  climax  of 
the  most  successful  of  camp-nicetiiigs.  All  the 
"  putting  down,  O  Lord,"  Brother  Barker  clam- 
ore  for  these  days  is  the  "putting  down  of  our 
thrice  fiendish  foes!"  All  the  "saving"  he  sup- 
plicates is  the  "saving  our  new,  our  young,  our 
great,  our  glorious  Confederacy,  even  tliine  own 
peculiar  jjcople,  O  our  God  !"' 

Yes,  it  is  a  trying  time  for  Mr.  Artliur,  these 
days. 

"He's  a  lie,  it  isn't  a  jwlitical  matter  at  all," 
Sam  Petei-s  says  in  reference  to  this  speckled 
bird  in  the  flock,  "the  very  existence  of  Chris- 
tianity at  all  on  this  continent  is  involved  in  the 
success  of  the  Confederacy !"  and  that  is  the 
first  article  in  the  Creed — ah,  you  may  deny  it 
now ;  you  know  it  was  then — of  every  religious 
Secessionist  at  the  South.  But,  in  the  rising 
tide  of  the  times,  friend  after  friend  has  been 
swept  away  from  Mr.  Arthur,  some  fled  North, 
some  gone  to  the  war  in  reality,  some  gone  to 
the  war,  from  him  at  least,  in  heart. 

His  congregation  wanes  from  Sabbath  to  Sab- 
bath. In  pastoral  visits  among  the  few  that  re- 
main, even  among  some  as  heartily  oj)posed  as 
he  at  the  outset  to  Secession,  he  hears,  "Well, 
I  was  opposed  to  the  thing  at  the  beginning  as 
much  as  a  man  could  be,  but  now  that  we  are 
in  it" — and  so  on  to  the  "  last  ditch"  with  the 
"black  flag"  waving  over  it!  Such  a  forget- 
fulncss  of  all  principle  in  the  matter,  such  an 
utter  abandoning  yourself  to  the  current  simi)ly 
because  it  is  a  current.  And  that  current  is 
Lethe  itself  as  to  the  Past.  It  matters  not  a 
straw  how  sincerely  good  Mr.  Ellis,  and  thou- 
sands like  him,  once  believed  it  to  be  a  great 
sin  ;  "  now  we  are  in  it ;  now,  you  sec,  we  ate  in 
it!"  is  the  magical  formula,  and,  presto!  off 
you  are  gone,  soul  as  well  as  body,  with  the 
movement. 

A  trying  time  for  the  man.  There  are  many 
as  clear  and  as  firm,  too,  as  he,  but,  unlike  tlicm, 
he  can  not  shut  himself  up  in  his  ofticc,  bury 
himself  in  the  furrows  of  his  farm,  occupy  and 
conceal  himself  behind  his  counter.  He  is  be- 
fore the  public  every  Sunday,  peculiarly  before 
them  on  the  often  recurring  Thanksgiving  and 
Fast  days.  Somerville  has  forgotten  a  good 
many  people,  but  he  is  too  much  before  it  for 
that.  An  annoying  Elijah,  who  will  not  even 
hie  himself  away  in  the  seclusion  of  Cherith 
;  and  Sarepta,  but  is  perpetually  in  Ahab's  jiath. 

By  slow  degrees,  keenly  as  it  hurt  him  at 
first,  he  is  becoming  used  to  people  passing  him 
without  speaking,  to  the  cold  words  and  colder 
1  manner  of  those  who  were  once  his  friends.  On 
what  pretext  resign  ?  Where  go  if  he  should  ? 
What  occui)ation  can  he,  a  man  under  ban,  fol- 
low ?  He  has  no  capital  to  become  a  merchant, 
no  fai-m  to  be  a  farmer,  as  objectionable  a  teach- 
er as  he  is  a  preacher.  Let  him  resign  to-day. 
I  before  to-morrow  Brother  Barker  will  himself 


124 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


see  to  it  that  lie  is  conscripted.  All  he  can  do 
is  to  continue  in  his  present  line  of  duty.  He 
wonders,  Is  the  delusion  in  myself  or  in  the 
mass  around  nie !  Ignorant  and  educated,  san- 
guine and  phlegmatic,  silent  and  talkative,  vio- 
lent and  mild,  the  avowedly  wicked  and  the  de- 
votedly pious — the  fermentation  is  seething  all 
men  into  oneness  of  opinion,  feeling,  speech. 
Alas  I  for  Edward  Arthur,  he  is  only  petrifying 
in  his  isolation. 

Look  at  good  Mr.  Ellis.  There  is  almost  no- 
thing left  in  his  store  these  days  for  sale.  His 
last  calicoes  went  off  at  two  dollars  a  yard. 
Mrs.  Bowles  bought  his  last  bolt  of  domestic  at 
one  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents.  He  did  have 
shoes  at  ten  dollars,  none  now.  His  shelves 
display  only  empty  boxes,  bottles  of  hair  oil, 
stone  jugs,  patent  medicines,  and  an  amazing 
number  of  mouse-traps.  Any  quantity  of  coffce- 
niilis,  but  they  are  only  a  mockery,  coffee  sell- 
ing at  two  dollars  a  pound.  But  not  a  cent 
cares  Mr.  Ellis.  His  main  object  in  opening  his 
store  in  the  morning  is  to  hear  what  people — 
dropping  in  during  the  day  to  ask  for  articles 
they  won't  get — have  to  say  upon  the  one  topic, 
while,  leaning  against  his  empty  shelves,  he  ex- 
changes instead  of  goods  his  own  freshest  hopes 
iu  return. 

"Goods?  No,  Sir;  and,  for  one,  I  intend 
getting  few  or  none  from  abroad  hereafter.  I 
hope  to  sell  nothing  that  is  not  made  within  the 
Confederacy.  In  a  short  time.  Sir,  we  will  have 
achieved  our  independence  in  every  sense  of  the 
word." 

Piety  develops  in  a  man  the  faculty  of  hope, 
and  the  vigor  of  Mr.  Ellis's  hope  has  reference 
to  the  Confederacy,  and  is  amazing.  His  son 
Henry  writes  gloomy  letters  from  the  army  and 
he  rebukes  him  therefor,  ignoring  to  every  one 
and  to  himself  every  thing  not  encouraging  to 
"  the  South."  The  paper  he  reads  several  times 
over  on  its  arrival,  with  what  heated  unbelief 
in  its  discouraging  items,  with  what  magnifying 
fervor  in  its  encouraging  ones.  The  least  this- 
tledown of  a  rumor  of  the  latter  kind  is  a  solid 
satisfaction  for,  at  least,  the  passing  moment. 
He  eagerly  repeats  it  to  customers  calling  in  on 
vain  search  for  axes  or  nails  or  pins.  An  iron- 
clad navy  arrived  at  Wilmington  for  the  South, 
a  civil  war  already  broken  out  at  the  North, 
European  intervention — his  sincere  belief  in  the 
news  satisfies  all  who  hear  it  from  him  that  it 
must  be  even  so.  Whoever  else  is  absent  from 
any  war  meeting  Mr.  Ellis  is  not ;  his  sincere 
face  giving  moral  sanction  to  the  proceedings 
otherwise  rather  vindictive,  not  to  .say  profane. 
It  is  singular,  though,  that  he  is  not  a  more  regu- 
lar attendant  on  the  prayer  meetings  ;  there  is  a 
spirit  in  the  remarks  and  the  prayers  thereat 
from  which,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  winces  and 
shrinks.  The  religiousness  of  Mr.  Ellis's  belief 
in  the  Confederacy  disquiets  his  pastor  more 


than  any  thing  else — all  Mr.  Ellis's  piety  running 
so  swiftly  in  that  one  channel  in  these  days. 

But  the  two  rarely  meet  now.  "He  knows 
my  sentiments  jH^rfectly  well;  how  can  he  be  so 
cordial  with  me — not  cordial — so  full  rather  of  a 
struggling  respect  and  esteem  for  me  still?  "  the 
pastor  asks  himself,  wondering  whether  he  will 
see  his  former  friend  at  church  next  Sunday  or 
no.  Is  it  possible  deep  down  in  his  soul  he 
knows  I  am  right?  Mr.  Arthur  muses  uj)on  it, 
till  one  Sabbath  Mr.  Ellis  disappears  with  his 
family  from  church. 

I'eriia])s  Robhy  Sorel  may  have  had  an  un- 
conscious share  in  this  last  step.  Not  a  more 
modest,  quiet,  sober  little  fellow  than  Hobby ; 
but,  to  say  nothing  of  his  mother,  he  has  by  this 
time  become  exceedingly  attached  to  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, who  teaches  him  at  home,  and  makes  a 
companion  of  him  in  all  his  excursions,  his  heart 
yearning  doubly  over  Kobby  in  his  state  of  ban- 
ishment, and  being  repulsed  from  almost  every 
one  else.  As  with  the  children  of  all  Union  peo- 
ple, Robby  has  a  great  deal  to  bear  in  the  way 
of  abuse.  That  his  mother  and  Mr.  Arthur  are 
Yankees,  Abolitionists,  and  traitors  he  is  told  al- 
most every  time  he  is  sent  into  Somemlle  on  an 
errand.  But  when  Charley  Ellis,  about  his  own 
age,  becoming  rapidly  the  very  bad  boy  which  the 
children  of  pious  parents  sometimes  do  become, 
heaps  cursing  and  abuse  upon  him,  about  this 
time,  as  a  "whitewashed  negro,"  with  a  great 
deal  more  in  reference  to  Mr.  Arthur  and  his 
mother,  Robby's  wrath  bursts  forth,  and,  as 
much  to  his  own  surprise  as  that  of  Charley 
Ellis,  he  gives  this  latter  a  sound  drubbing.  Of 
course  Mr.  Ellis  hears  only  his  son's,  or  rather 
his  son's  mother's  version  of  the  matter;  that, 
with  Charley's  blackened  eyes,  settles  the  matter. 
Only  he  will  not  put  it  on  that  ground  with  Mr. 
Arthur. 

"The  prayers  he  offers  are  precisely  those  he 
might  ]iut  uj)  in  a  Boston  puljiit :  I  can  not  stand 
it,"  says  Mr.  Ellis.  Not  that  he  has  any  more 
fancy  for  Brother  Barker  and  the  like  for  all 
that.  For  the  present  Mr.  Ellis  and  fixmily,  his 
children  withdrawn  from  Sabbath  School,  are 
adrift  upon  the  world. 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  would  be  as  dumb  upon 
political  matters  in  the  pulpit  if  I  was  where  I 
could  speak?"  said  Mr.  Arthur  to  himself,  next 
morning  as  he  rode  home  from  his  bath,  feeling 
fresh  and  strong.  "And  is  it  an  hypocrisy  for 
me  to  put  my  position  on  the  ground  that  it  is 
the  duty  of  ministers  to  abstain  from  politics?" 

"You  and  your  fellow-preachers  of  the  same 
sentiments  are  in  somewhat  the  same  case  here 
at  the  South  that  the  preachers  of  the  Demo- 
cratic party  are  at  the  North,"  says  Mr.  Fergu- 
son, to  whom,  in  Guy  Brooks's  office  the  same 
day,  Mr.  Arthur  propounds  his  case.  "Were 
you  and  your  like  at  the  North  they  at  the 
South,  to  say  the  least,  the  temptation  upon  you 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


12S 


as  upon  tlicm  to  speak  out  would  be  treuieii-  niiiterinl  of  ])rotouud  pliilosoiihical  study.  The 
dous.  Ell?  I  dare  say  you  would  be  among  re^'ular  steps  of  Secession  toward  despotism  are 
the  loudest,  mo.>;t  violent  of  them  all — a  jierfect  perfectly  beautiful,  ilhistratiiij,'  tiie  invariable 
Barker.  It  is  only  hunnin  nature,  nuui,"  says  workiu};  of  moral  law  as  the  rainbow  does  the 
the  Scot.  I  natural  laws  of  iiglit.     Stay  law,  excmjjtion  of 

"My  convietions,"  moans  the  minister,  "are  the  rieh  from  military  service,  martial  law,  con- 
so  very  clear  and  stronj; ;  so  very  much  to  so  scription,  prostituted  j)ress,  terrorism — we  will 
many  is  at  stake  ;  and,  then,  the  question  is  so  soon  get  on  to  currency  utterly  depreciated,  then 
largely  a  moral,  in  fact  a  religious,  one!  Yet  imjiressment  of  jirojierty  and  ne<,'roes,  terrible 
surely  a  minister  should  be  exclusively — "  military  executions  to  jirevent  desertion.  State 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  that,"  breaks  in  the  militia  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Richmond 
lawyer.      "You  are  occupyinjj  the  only  ])osition    gaiiy — " 

you  can  now ;"  and  Uuy  Brooks  coutiuues  an  in- .  "  What  raving  madness!"  breaks  in  the  law- 
tcrruj)ted  denunciation  of  the  new  Stay  Law.       |  yer,  rising  from  his  seat  in  desperation.     "We 

"And  there  is  conscription,"  begins  the  Scotch-   seceded  for  what  ?" 
unin.  "For  our  share  of  the  Territories,  and  they 


"The  most  awful  violation  of  State  Rights — 
the  most  unconstitutional  thing!"  burst  out  the 
lawver. 


are  gone  ;  for  State  Rights,  and  they  are  gone." 
"For  Slavery,  and  it  will  soon  be  gone,  too. 
Quern  deus  vult  perdrre — a  hackneyed  old  j)rov. 


"You  must  not  say  that;  you  know  our  Su-  erb,  Mr.  Arthur.  You  cut  loose  from  the  Un- 
prcme  Court  is  unanimous  against  yon.  By-  ion,"  continues  the  Scotchman,  "and  sail  off 
the-by,'' continues  Mr.  Ferguson,  "I  had  a  visit  on  the  one  bottom  of  Slavery!  Beautiful  ex- 
last  night  from  a  man  on  land  business — want-  periment,  expenmenhnn  amcis,  as  Bacon  calls 
cd  to  buy  land — as  if  I  would  exchange  my  such;  Faraday,  with  a  broad,  dean  coimter  be- 
solid  acres  for  his  worthless  pajier-money  !  He  fore  him,  never  tried  a  neater,  completer  one  in 
was  telling  me  about  a  District  Judge  in  our  Natural  Philosophy.  The  idea,  yon  see,  is  to 
sister  State — a  long  story.  Being  a  Yankee  eliminate  Slavery  from  all  that  has  hitherto  been 
and  in  ofKee  he  decides  instantly,  eagerly,  that ,  mixed  with  it,  to  see  how  the  thing  itself  and  by 
conscription  is  constitutional.  They  wanted  to  itself  stands.  Well,  not  a  Power  in  the  world 
argue  before  him  the  question  of  Martial  Law,  dare  recognize  your  Slave  Government;  at  home 
as  now  existing  in  every  village  over  the  State.  •  corruption  and  despotism  and  ruin  until  you 
'Not  one  syllable,  gentlemen,'  he  said  ;  'my  [  sicken  of  it— to  say  nothing  of  the  awful  judg- 
raind  is  already  made  up — ]\Lartial  Law  is  con-  ments  of  Heaven  upon  you  by  the  hands  of  the 
stitutional  also.'  And  if  that  gang  at  Richmond  Federals!  Being  from  Scotland,  lam  impar- 
had  enacted  Polygamy  it  would  have  been  the  tial,  of  course.  And  such  men  as  you  two.  Dr. 
same.  Poor  fellow  !  I  know  all  about  it :  at  the  Warner,  Paul  Brooks  up  there  at  the  Pines,  and 
beginning  of  Secession,  too  thoroughly  informed  all  like  you  at  the  South,  why,  born  and  living 
in  head  and  heart  not  to  know  its  diabolical  na-  I  at  the  South,  it  is  no  wonder  you  are  coming  so 
ture  and  consequences,  he  winced  and  shrank,  slowly  to  see.  But  you  are  on  the  road — three 
In,  however,  he  went  at  last,  under  the  terrible  years  hence  the  Union  men  of  the  South  will  be 
pressure,  desperately  ;  now  he  stops  at  nothing,  I  the  most  hearty  emanci])ationists  on  earth,  with- 
of  course.  IMy  land-seeker  told  me  the  poor  out  a  sjiark  of  Nortliern  fanaticism  !" 
fellow  is  thinned  to  a  ghost — you  can  read  his  It  was  an  awful  sentiment ;  but  dry  Mr.  Fer- 
misery  in  his  face — he  can  not  sit  still  a  moment  guson  stated  it  simply  as  a  scientific  fact.  He 
— in  and  out  of  every  group  he  comes  upon,  was  canny  Scotch  enough,  however,  to  lower 
seeking  consolation  and  finding  none.  Like  his  voice  as  he  made  the  atrocious  statement. 
Milton's  Satan  he  can  not  fly  himself,  however.  I  "And  it  is  the  band  of  God,"  he  added;  "you 
I've  put  my  man's  inf(jrmation  in  my  collection,  good  peo))lc  could  see  no  harm  in  Slavery.  Very 
adds  he,  laying  his  broad  ]m\m  on  the  vast  vol-  well,  Heaven  is  putting  that  very  cup  to  your 
nmein  question  lying  on  the  table  beside  him;  lip,  pressing  it  there  bitter  and  long,'to  see  how 
"and  you  mark  my  words.  Sirs,"  continues  the  you  like  the  taste.  The  Jehovah  of  Moses  still 
grim  Scot,  "  if  I  do  not  have  to  conijilcte  that  rules,  an  eye  for  an  eye,  kx  talionis — retributive 
person's  history  with  an  account  of  his  suicide  I  justice  the  old  Covenanters  call  it." 
am  more  mistaken  than  I  was  ever  before  in  my  j  Neither  of  his  friends  would  have  endured 
life."  such   language  a  few  months  before.     Yes,  an 

"  I  suppose  you  have  that  printed  list  of  those  immense  amount  of  thinking  was  being  done  in 
who  have  not  paid  their  War  tax,"  asks  the  law-  the  South  those  days,  and  in  the  mind  of  every 
yer — "the  one  pasted  uj)  in  the  Court-house?"     reasoning  mortal  there.  Union  man  or  .'>eces- 

"  In  my  collection?  Yes,  Sir,  my  name  lead-  sionist,  it  all  bore  upon  that  one  thing — Slavery, 
ing  the  list.  There  has  not  lieen  a  matter  re-  "And  so  you  had  to  march  n]\  too,  and  take 
lating  to  Secession  in  my  reach  that  is  not  there,  your  medicine?"  the  lawyer  asks  Mr.  Arthur, 
That  collection,  Sir,  is  nothing  to  laugh  at — it  is    after  a  long  silence.    And  that  gentleman  need- 


120 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


etl  no  explanation.  He  had  stood  before  the 
Provost  Marshal,  and,  under  oath,  renounced  all 
allegiance  to  the  United  States  Government, 
swearing  fealty  to  the  "Confederate  States  of 
America"  instead.  Medicine?  Yes;  and  the 
bitterest  to  him,  and  to  thousands  like  him,  their 
manhood  had  ever  taken.  Certain  zealous  fe- 
males of  the  Secession  persuasion  had  even  of- 
fered themselves  to  the  Provost  Marshal  of  Som- 
erville  as  a  committee  to  administer  the  same 
oath  to  every  one  of  their  own  sex  in  the  coun- 
ty. Unfortunately  the  Provost  Marshal  declined 
the  offer ;  acknowledged  its  importance,  but 
plead  absence  of  instructions.  Not  one  of  the 
Secession  females  but  would  have  died  or  suc- 
ceeded. Not  even  the  feeblest  of  the  Union  la- 
dies but  would  have  endured  first  a  thousand 
deaths.  Who  can  conjecture  the  issue?  And, 
alas  for  Poesy,  Bellona,  dread  goddess  of  war, 
being  the  muse,  that  such  an  Iliad  should  not 
have  been  enacted ! 

"Tim  Lamum  Provost  Marshal?  Oh,  come 
now,  not  Tim  Lamum!"  had  been  the  universal 
remark  in  Soraerville  when  that  fact  was  an- 
nounced. 

Wait  one  instant.  For  it  takes  very  little 
expenditure  of  colors — water  colors — to  paint 
Tim  Lamum.  A  suddenly  shot  up  youth  of 
nineteen  was  Tim,  oily  as  to  hair,  sparse  as  to 
mustache,  feeble  as  to  stamina,  profane  as  to 
speech,  loose  as  to  morals,  good  as  to  only  one 
thing  on  earth — and  that  one  thing  is  poker. 
All  the  rest  of  Tim's  full  length  is  on  the  can- 
vas when  it  is  added  that  Tim  had  "plenty  of 
negroes,"  and  was  nephew  of  the  editor.  An 
exceedingly  vaporous  existence  had  Tim  led  up 
to  Secession.  With  his  hat  perched,  tilted  well 
forward,  upon  the  top  of  his  head,  a  cigar  in 
the  corner  of  his  languid  mouth,  nothing  on  the 
surface  of  this  planet  had  Tim  to  do.  And  he 
did  it ;  that  is,  during  the  day.  At  night  it  was 
poker. 

Tim  was  off  to  the  war  from  the  first,  was  in 
one  fight  in  which  a  bridge  was  much  mixed 
up,  and  came  back.  Forever  on  the  point  of 
leaving  to  "rejoin  his  command,"  somehow  he 
never  got  off.  But  as  a  private?  No,  Sir.  No 
man  readier  than  he  to  go  as  an  officer.  Not 
attaining  to  that,  Lamum,  editor  and  uncle,  dis- 
covers that  he  can  not  dispense  with  Tim  from 
the  office  of  the  Star.  So  Tim  is  compelled  to 
smoke  his  listless  cigar  a  fraction  of  every  day 
in  that  dreary  and  very  dirty  den  until  his  uncle 
can  get  him  something  as  Commissary,  Quarter- 
master, Contractor  from  Richmond. 

So,  when  INIartial  Law  is  established  in  Som- 
erville,  Somerville  finds  it  embodied  in  Tim, 
cigar  in  mouth,  hat  on  head,  heels  on  the  little 
table  before  him,  ready  to  perform  all  the  duties 
of  Provost  Marshal  in  the  empty  store  employed 
for  the  purpose.  And  very  easy  Tim  took  it. 
Bob  Withers  acted  for  the  time  as  his  clerk  on 


the  dusty  counter  near  by,  entering  the  names 
and  administering  the  oath.  All  that  Tim  has 
to  do  at  present  is  to  smooth  down  his  incijjient 
mustache  in  the  hollowed  fore-finger  of  his  left 
hand  whenever  he  takes  his  cigar  from  his  mouth 
with  his  right.  Medicine  ?  Ay,  the  bitterest  on 
earth. 

* '  An  oath  under  duress  has  not  the  least  ob- 
ligation," reasons  Guy  Brooks  and  hundreds  of 
thousands  at  the  South.  Ye  who  seriously  re- 
vere an  oath  as  the  most  solemn  of  appeals  to 
God,  is  or  is  not  the  taking  of  an  oath  on  the 
basis  of  such  reasoning  about  as  cool,  as  deliber- 
ate a  taking  the  name  of  God  in  vain  as  a  man 
can  be  guilty  of?  If  the  whole  moral  law,  in 
every  possible  inflection  thereof,  were  but  as 
explicit  and  invariable  as  the  Multijdication 
Table  now ! 

A  pitiful  sight  it  was  to  see  old,  white-headed 
men,  who  had  not  had  time  yet  to  realize  the 
possibility  of  Secession,  the  very  imagination  of 
which  they  had  abhorred  all  their  lives,  sudden- 
ly hurried  in  from  their  homes,  stood  like  chil- 
dren before  this  beardless  puppet  of  the  hour, 
driven  there  to  do  so  under  peril  of  property 
and  life,  calling  on  God  to  witness  they  re- 
nounced the  Government  they  had  up  till  that 
instant  regarded  as  the  noblest  and  firmest  on 
earth  !  Solemnly  pledging  themsehes  to  what  ? 
To  the  suddenest  and  wildest  and  windiest — 

Strong  men  came  sullenly  forward  too.  Heav- 
en help  us !  not  a  man  in  Somerville  failed  to 
come.  Many  swearing,  as  they  took  the  oath 
— ah,  how  solemnly ! — by  the  God  that  made 
them,  to  take  full  vengeance  for  this  their  deep 
humiliation.  Yes,  it  ivas  an  oath — not  to  Se- 
cessionists— it  left  them  as  it  found  them ;  to 
Union  men  it  was  the  awful  pledge  and  sacra- 
ment of  hatred  and  vengeance.  Before  that 
oath  their  ]nirpose  was  merely  a  resolve ;  hence- 
forth it  was  a  vow. 

In  the  establishment  of  IMartial  Law  and  Con- 
scription Secession  rolled  up  into  its  zenith,  sub- 
siding thereafter — but  oh,  how  slowly! — to  its 
nadir. 

"  I  call  you  to  witness,  Mr.  Lamum,  and  you, 
Mr.  Withers,"  Edward  Arthur,  as  he  stands  be- 
fore Tim's  boot-soles  displayed  on  the  little  red 
table,  remarks,  "  that  I  take  this  oath  only  on 
one  ground.  Were  it  not  for  that  I  would  per- 
ish first." 

"Ah,  and  what  ground  is  that?"  asks  Tim, 
with  languid  curiosity,  clasping  both  hands  to- 
gether behind  his  head  and  tilting  his  chair  far- 
ther back  as  he  speaks.  He  manages  to  ask  the 
question,  too,  with  his  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"  Solely  because  I  am  commanded  to  obey,  by 
Scripture,  every  ordinance  of  man  for  the  Lord's 
sake.  I  obey  as  part  of  my  submission  to  the 
Powers  that  be,  yielding  not  to  those  Powers  but 
to  the  Providence  that  permits  them  present 
might,  and  to  the  express  command  of  God  in 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


127 


TlIK    PUOVOST    MARSHAL'S   UiFICE. 


such  a  case  as  this.  I  submit  to  this  as  I  wouhl 
endeavor  to  do  to  every  atlliction  He  pleases  to 
send,  however  painful,  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say." 

"  I'na  afraid  you  do  not  lil;e  my  Government," 
says  the  Provost  Marshal,  with  pitying  dignity. 
And  if  Tim  nsed  the  cxjjression  once  during  his 
otfii-ial  career  he  used  it— shall  we  venture  to  say  ? 
—one  thousand  times.     He  had  met  with  it  in 


the  corner  of  some  npws])aper  as  the  language  of 
some  other  high  and  distinguished  official  in  dip- 
lomatic correspondence.  "I  have  no  choice  in 
the  matter,"  he  afterward  remarks  to  those  whose 
houses  he  has  had  searclicd  for  conscrii)ts,  or 
who  are  up  before  him  for  using  disloyal  lan- 
guage ;  "  it  is  my  Government  which  directs  me 
to  act  as  I  do.  If  my  Government  did  not  con- 
sider it  necessary  they  would  not  have  made  it 


128 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


my  duty,"  he  replies,  when  any  one  attempts  to 
argue  the  matter  of  passports  from  county  to 
county.  Yet  there  is  something,  as  peculiarly 
])leiising  to  Mr.  Arthur  as  it  is  distjisteful  to  Mr. 
Ellis,  in  hearing  just  such  an  individual  as  Tim 
Lainum  mention  the  Confederacy  as  "  my  Gov- 
ernment." 

"  I  regarded  the  act  of  Secession  as  a  wicked- 
ness, from  voting  for  which  I  abstained  exactly 
as  I  would  abstain" — the  Minister  uill  add  in  a 
steady  tone  and  looking  his  beardless  hero  in  the 
e3'es — "from  the  wickedness  of  swearing,  gam- 
bling, or  lewdness.  Every  hour  I  live  I  more 
firmly  regard  it  as  part  of  the  great  crime  against 
God  and  man  for  which  we  are  enduring  and 
will  continue  to  endure  an  awful  jjunishment. 
I  am  submitting  to  it,  meanwhile,  only  as  to  the 
atflictive  Providence  of  Heaven,  in  obedience  to 
its  ex])rcss  command  to  that  eft'ect." 

The  old  store  is  full  when  he  says  it.  Of  course 
he  ought  no  more  to  have  said  it  than  ought  ii'ate 
Paul  to  have  made  that  unpleasant  remark  about 
a  whited  wall  when  on  his  trial.  His  own  ideal 
Minister  would  have  quietly  taken  the  oath  and 
ridden  back  again  to  IVIrs.  Sorel's,  thinking  and 
feeling  as  much  as  he  pleased,  but  breathing  no 
syllable  aloud.  He  was  surprised  at  himself,  for 
lie  had  no  intention  of  saying  a  word.  But  he 
felt  more  deeply  than  he  knew,  and  in  the  an- 
guish of  the  moment  could  not  refrain  from  bear- 
ing testimony  against  the  Baal  of  the  hour  if  he 
died  for  it. 

At  least  no  other  man  in  Somcrville  did  any 
thing  of  the  kind.  It  woidd  have  been  a  too 
dangerous  exi)eriment  in  the  case,  say,  of  Guy 
Brooks,  Ferguson,  Dr.  Warner,  and  the  like. 
But  Edward  Arthur  was  so  well  known  in  Som- 
crville, had  married  so  many  of  the  couples  there, 
buried  so  many  of  the  dead  there,  his  purit}'  of 
life,  his  acknowledged  piety,  the  evident  sinceri- 
ty of  the  man,  as  he  stood  there  before  Tim 
Lamum,  erect,  earnest,  utterly  fearless,  took  the 
crowd  too  much  by  surjirise.  Besides,  just  then, 
it  was  Tim  who  presented  the  majesty  of  Seces- 
sion in  his  person — the  contrast  between  the  two 
was  too  striking. 

"  Oh,  said  he  hated  and  despised  the  Confed- 
eracy with  his  whole  soul !  Said  he  obeyed  it 
only  because  the  Bible  made  him.  Acknowledg- 
ing, you  see,  the  Bible  is  on  our  side.  Said  the 
Secessionists  were  worse  than  adulterers,  liars, 
and  thieves,  and  murderers !  Got  so  mad  he  was 
white  with  rage.  Had  his  right  hand  in  liis 
bosom  all  the  time,  a  revolver  there  I've  no 
doubt.  Would  you  have  ever  thought  such  a 
thing  of  him,  Mrs.  Bowles?  I  used,  myself,  to 
think  the  whole  world  of  Mr.  Arthur,  have  said 
a  thousand  times  Brother  Barker  was  not  to  be 
compared  to  him.  Now  just  look  at  those  two 
men  !  Brother  Barker,  a  true  patriot,  a  strong 
Secessionist,  and  Barker  a  Northern  man,  you 
know,  while   he  was  born   at   the  South  and 


lived  all  his  life  there.  I  tell  you  what,  Mrs. 
Bowles" — Mrs.  Warner  it  is,  she  has  been  in 
Mrs.  Bowles's  j)arlor  for  the  last  hour  or  so,  her 
eyebrows  wide  apart  at  the  inner  ends — "if  wc 
only  knew  we'd  find  out  he's  a  bod,  bad  man. 
There's  nothing  I  can  lay  my  hand  on,  it's  true ; 
but  if  we  only  knew !  I  always  was  doubtful 
about  him,  there's  a  sort  of  pride —  My  little 
'Kia  is  a  child,  I  know  ;  but  if  she  was  old  enough, 
and  I  but  imagined  Mr.  Arthur  had  anv  idea  of 
her—" 

"  I  can  not  imagine  what  you  mean.  Madam," 
says  Mrs.  Bowles,  more  in  reference  to  Mrs. 
Warner's  mysterious  manner  than  to  her  words. 

"  I  mean,  if  my  'Ria  was  as  old  as  your  Alice 
— I  say  it  as  a  friend — " 

"You  will  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Warner,"  Mrs. 
Bowles  interrupts  her  visitor  in  her  stateliest 
manner — some  ten  inches  lower,  forty  pounds 
lighter  than  Mrs.  Warner ;  but  it  is  South  Caro- 
lina in  contrast  with  Mississiji])i,  and  she  towers 
above  her  as  did  Marie  Antoinette  above  the 
canaille — "we  will  not  allude,  if  you  please,  to 
my  daughter,  Alice  Bowles,  in  this  connection." 

How  the  said  Alice  managed  to  bring  in  Mrs. 
Warner's  name  that  same  evening,  as  mother 
and  daughter  sat  sewing  together  at  those  ))er- 
petual  haversacks,  is  not  known,  but  Alice  sus- 
pended her  needle  and  looked  up  surprised  at 
the  vehemence  of  her  usually  quiet  and  refined 
little  mother. 

"  Dc  not  mention  her  name  to  me  again, 
Alice.  I  did  sui)pose  our  acquaintance  with 
her  was  ended  by  my  rejily  to  her  impertinence 
in  reference  to  Lieutenant  Ravcnel's  visit.  It  is 
not  so  much  her  loathsome  snuft'-di]i]iing,  that 
she  should  bring  her  filthy  yellow  bottle  with  her 
into  my  very  parlor,  actually  converse  with  me, 
her  filthy  mop-stick  in  the  corner  of  her  mouth  ! 
It  is  her  quick  eyes  and  her  incessant  tongue. 
I  do  believe  the  jioor  creature  is  a  sincere  South- 
ern woman  ;  but  much  as  I  dislike  the  Northern 
people,  she  has  a  venom  in  speaking  about  them 
that  is  exceedingly  unladylike." 

"That  is  one  thing  I  dislike  Secession  for, 
mother.  Those  —  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  the  other 
Union  people — with  whom  we  used  to  associate 
most  we  have  been  separated  from.  Mrs.  Warner 
is  only  one  of  the  new  class  of  pco]ile  the  war  has 
thrown  us  among.  Dr.  Peel,  for  instance,  dar- 
ing to  speak  to  you  in  !Mr.  Ellis's  store  yester- 
day; that  intoxicated  old  oddity,  Captain  Rich- 
ard Simmons,  Bob  Withers,  and  ^Ir.  Lamum  act- 
ually acting  with  you  as  a  Soldiers'  Aid  Com- 
mittee. That  odious  Yankee  schoolmaster,  ]Mr. 
Neely,  too,  actually  visiting  here  almost  everk- 
week.  He  never  dreamed  of  doing  so  until  he 
had  the  war  news  to  talk  over  with  you.  For 
one,  if  it  were  not  for  you  and  Rutledgc,  I  would 
almost  hate  Secession  !  And  to  think  it  is  Slav- 
ery we  are  fighting  fori  it  never  did  before,  but 
it  seems  odd  to  me  now — Slavery  T  adds  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ll"J 


voung  lady,  with — like  Mr.  Arthur  before  Tim 
Lnnniin — a  •;ri>at  deal  more  ile])fh  of  fei'liiig 
than  she  before  knew  herself  to  be  possessed  of. 

"Aristocratic  little  old  fool,  putting  on  her 
Charleston  airs  with  me  I"  says  Mrs.  Warner, 
snutV  stick  in  mouili,  tliat  same  moment  at  her 
fireside.  "And  that  Alice  of  hers,  so  polite  and 
reserved,  as  if  she  was  a  (luteii  or  an  heiress. 
Plague  take  them  !  They  say  that  that  Uutledge 
Bowles  the  old  goose  is  so  everlastingly  talking 
about  is  going  to  the  dogs  there  in  Charleston. 
I  hope  so  with  all  my  soul  I  It's  a  heap  she 
needs  to  bring  down  her  abominable  pride." 
And  a  gooil  deal  more  to  tiie  same  eft'oct,  Mr. 
Arthur  being  intermingled  therewith,  she  said 
that  night  in  bed  to  Dr.  Warner,  like  a  veteran 
in  the  trenches,  asleep  l)y  her  side. 

Nothing  since  his  elevation  to  office  pleases 
Tim  Lamum  more  than  Miss  Alice  Bowles's 
bearing  toward  him  a  few  evenings  after  at  a 
party  given  by  Colonel  Ret  Roberts.  Tim  has 
long  since  given  up  Miss  Alice  as — "beautiful 
as  you  please — yes.  Sir — but  too" — a  heated  ex- 
pression here — "proud  for  me!"  It  is  his  new- 
position,  of  couj-sc,  Tfhich  causes  Miss  Alice  to 
pause  near  him  in  an  incidental  way  that  night 
with  such  a  smile  as  emboldens  Tim  to  inform 
her  that  it  is  a  pleasant  evening;  with  great 
dignity  too,  the  Provost  Marshal's  hollowed  fore- 
tinger  smoothing  down  his  mustache. 

"You  are  quite  busy  these  days?"  says  Alice 
at  last,  and  with  an  interest  in  Mr.  Lamum  as 
flattering  as  it  is  novel. 

"Yes,  Miss  Alice.  Well,  only  tolerably  so. 
The  Secession  people  among  us  are  so  very  will- 
ing, and  those  poor  Union  chajis  are  so  fright- 
ened, I  don't  have  as  much  to  do  as  I  supposed 
I  would,"  says  Tim. 

"It  IS  such  a  new  thing  among  ns,  Mr.  Lam- 
um. Do  tell  me  what  the  duties  of  a  Provost 
Marshal  are?"  asks  Alice. 

("Not  a  bit  proud  these  days.  It  is  really 
amazing  how  the  girls  are  taken  by  a  fellow's 
being  a  Government  official.  Gloriously  beau- 
tiful 1"  says  Tim  afterward  to  Bob  Withers,  and 
a  dozen  or  so  more,  as  opportunity  offered,  and 
not  without  expletives.) 

"Well,  it  is  a  new  business  to  ns  also,"  he 
replies  to  his  fair  questioner.  "Yes — oh,  well, 
we  just  do,  you  know,  wliat  turns  up  to  be  done. 
Make  every  soul  take  tlie  oath,  say.  Haul  peo- 
ple up  if  they  hesitate  about  taking  Confederate 
money.  A  funny  thing  happened  before  me 
about  t]iat  only  to-day,  Miss  Alice.  Joe  Sta- 
ples, the  hotel  keeper,  you  know,  he  has  that 
Scotch  Ferguson,  grizzly-bearded,  positive  chap 
— oh,  you  know  him — up  before  me,  you  see. 
Ferguson  had  lent  Stajdes  some  thousand  dol- 
lars, gold  and  silver,  you  know,  on  interest  when 
Staples  was  fixing  up  his  hotel,  you  see.  Sta- 
ples has  a  trunk  full  of  Confederate  money, 
taken  in,  you  know,  from  pcojile  stopping  with 


him.  Stai)les  wants  Ferguson  to  take  it  in  pay- 
ment. Ferguson  refuses.  However,  he  says  he 
may  do  it  under  protest,  and  steps  out  to  consult 
Guy  Brooks  as  his  lawyer.  Just  as  he  steps  out 
in  comes  Colonel  Juggins,  outs  with  a  biindle 
of  Confederate  money — he  had  heard,  you  see, 
that  Staples  was  up  at  my  office,  and  had  fol- 
lowed him — outs,  you  know,  with  a  bundle  of 
Confederate  money  as  big  as  a  small  baby,  and 
wants  to  pay  Staples  some — well,  I  don't  know- 
how  many  hinidreds,  Tom  Juggins's  board  bill; 
you  know  he  used  to  loaf  a  good  deal  about  the 
hotel  before  he  went  to  the  war.  What  do  you 
think  ?  Staples  said  he  would  take  it  only  un- 
der protest ;  steps  out  to  see  his  lawyer  if  even 
that  wonld  secure  him." 

"And  what  did  Mr.  Ferguson  decide  to  do?" 
asks  Alice,  witii  interest. 

"  Came  back  with  Guy  Brooks ;  said  he  would 
not  take  the  money  in  that  shape  at  all.  Fact 
is,  jjcople  don't  like,  you  know,  to  take  the  mon- 
ey. We  have  the  case  under  advisement.  If  I 
could  only  know,"  adds  Tim,  with  the  dignity 
of  an  embassador,  "  what  my  Government  would 
have  me  do — " 

"You  have  assistance  in  determining?" 

"Assistance?  Oh  yes;  plenty  of  that.  My 
uncle,  Dr.  Peel,  Captain  Simmons  when  he  is 
sober  enough,  as  for  that,  and  when  he  is  not 
sober,  never  is,  you  know.  Fact  is,  I  leave  it 
pretty  much  to  them.  I  only  sit  there,  you  see. 
We  always  have  a  detail  of  a  dozen  or  so  of  sol- 
diers to  haul  up  people.  The  w-orst  bore  is  mak- 
ing out  passports.  We  let  no  man  go  out  of  the 
county,  and  it  is  so  all  over  the  State,  but  we 
have  him  to  tell  where  he  is  going,  what  for, 
how  long,  and  all.  However,  we  have  blank 
forms.  Bob  Withers  fills  them  up;  all  I  have 
to  do  is  to  sign  my  name." 

But  that  was  just  what  frightened  Mr.  Neely. 
After  incredible  exertions  for  office  that  gentle- 
man had  been  offered  the  post  of  Provost  Mar- 
shal before  Tim.  At  first  he  was  immensely 
flattered.  But  the  Yankee,  though  steadily 
smothered  and  trampled  down  in  him  with  his 
own  hands  and  feet,  was  too  strong  there  for 
that.  One  night's  sleep  over  it,  rather  one 
night's  tossing  wide  awake  over  it,  and  Mr. 
Neely,  with  a  thousand  reasons,  declined,  ex- 
actly as  he  would  have  done  any  other  specula- 
tiim  in  which  he  might  make  hundreds,  yet,  pos- 
sibly, might  lose  thousands;  for  the  inner  Mr. 
Neely  was  not  exactly  as  confident  of  the  certain 
success  as  was  the  outer  Mr.  Neely.  His  signa- 
ture to  bills  for  tuition,  in  other  days,  was  not 
so  glorious,  but  safer. 

"^^r.  Lamum,"  s.iys  Alice,  after  a  while,  in 
lower  tones  and  playing  with  her  fan,  "you 
know  how  curious  we  ladies  are ;  there  is  one 
thing  I  would  like  you  to  tell  me  :  you  have  sent 
some  of  the  worst  of  the  Union  men  oat  of  the 
country,  have  you  not  ?" 


130 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Government  oflScial  as  Tim  is,  be  could  no 
more  refuse  those  eyes  !  Beside?,  he  has  an  in- 
creasing sense  of  his  new  importance,  and  does 
not  care  to  diminish  it. 

"I  ought  not,  perliaps,  officially,  you  know, 
to  tell  it.  Miss  Bowles;  but  you  will  not  men- 
tion it,  wc  have.     My  Government — " 

"And  in  every  case  thc\'  were  hunR  by  the 
road-side  ?"  Alice  is  paler,  but  more  erect,  too, 
as  she  asks. 

''I'm  afraid  so,"  says  Tim,  not  quite  so  erect, 
and  forgetting  his  mustache.  "  My  Government 
is  prosecuting  a  war — " 

"It  is  very  close  in  here,"  interrupts  Alice; 
"a  little  nearer  the  window,  if  you  please. 
Thank  you !"  and  Tim  has  a  deep  consciousness 
of  his  inii)ortance.  It  is  more  painful,  however, 
than  pleasing  just  now. 

"You  were  mentioning  Mr.  Barker  just  now, 
or  were  you  not  ?  He  has  taken  the  oath  ?"'  she 
asks  at  last. 

"  Parson  Barker?     I  don't  remember." 

"I  must  have  mistaken.  That  is — "  Alice 
says,  with  a  stammer  and  a  blush. 

"It  must  have  been  Mr.  Arthur  I  spoke  of," 
says  Tim  ;  and  adds :  "  But  it  is  this  conscript 
business  is  beginning  to  make  us  work.  It  would 
look,  you  know,  as  if  it  will  take  all  the  volun- 
teers we've  got  to  hunt  up  the  conscripts.  In 
hiding,  you  see.  And  when  one  does  catch 
them,  their  wives  and  sisters  and  old  fathers 
and  mothers  crying  there  iu  my  office,  you 
know—" 

"  However,  it  relieves  you  that  no  one  refuses 
to  take  the  oath — " 

"Oath?  Oh  no!  "Who  cares  for  an  oath, 
you  know?  There  was  Mr.  Arthur — but  of  course 
you've  heard  about  that?" 

"Not  clearly.  Mr.  Arthur?  Whatwasit?" 
It  is  amazing,  considering  their  long  acquaint- 
ance, how  indifferent  Alice  is.  But  Tim  tells 
the  whole  story  very  nearly  as  it  occurred — truth- 
ful fellow,  Tim,  except  at  poker.  Besides,  he 
likes  to  talk,  and  it  is  a  feather  in  his  new  cap 
to  be  seen  by  the  company  passing  and  repassing 
around  them  talking  with  her. 

"Spunky  chap.  Miss  Alice,"  he  adds  at  last. 
"I  haven't  much  use  for  preachers  myself;  but 
one  can  not  help  liking  that  man.  He  seems 
really  to  believe  our  revolution  a  wrong  thing ; 
shakes  his  head  over  us  as  if  we  were  all  out  on 
a  spree.  Singular!  but  he  really  believes  so! 
You  won't  mention  it,  Miss  Alice,  but  fact  is,  of 
the  two  men,  Mr.  Arthur  and  Brother  Barker, 
as  they  call  him,  I  can't  stand  Barker.  As  to 
being  a  good  Secessionist,  that  is  all  right,  you 
know ;  at  the  same  time  we  outsiders  don't  like 
to  see  a  preacher  mixing  himself  up  in  things  of 
the  sort  too  much.  It's  like  a  woman  outside 
her  sphere.  It's  that  distinguishes  us  from  the 
Yankees.     There's  a  holy,  I  mean  a  pious,  or 


rather  a  religious — oh  !  I  don't  know  what  you 

call  it,''  says  Tim,  making  vague  gestures  with 
both  hands,  "  a  sort  of  Sabbaih-day  something 
one  likes  to  have  in  a  parson.  The  hardest  case 
among  us  don't  like  to  see  a  preacher  leaving 
his  sermons  to  mi.x  up —  Men  are  doing,  you 
know,  a  good  deal  of  cureing  and  swearing  and 
worse  these  days ;  and  a  parson  hail-fellow  in 
that  sort  of  crowd,  you  know —  And  on  Sun- 
days, you  know,  and  in  churches,  too.  For  one, 
I  hate — we  all  do — to  have  Brother  Barker  ever- 
lastingly iu  with  us,  disctisi-ing  and  suggesting — " 

"Only  trying  to  moderate  you  leading  offi- 
cials," explains  Alice,  in  wonderful  good-himior. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  Miss  Alice!  Moderate? 
Why,  the  parson  is  the  most  ultra  of  the  w  hole 
lot.  If  we  had  actually  done  half  the  things  that 
parson  has  urged  on  us,  and  from  the  Bible — 
You  mustn't  mention  it,"  continues  Tim,  who, 
never  ice,  is  thoroughly  thawed  under  the  young 
lady's  inlluence,  "  but  he  was  for  having  us  send 
Mr.  Arthur  out  of  the  country.  His  Union  in- 
fluence, he  said.  If  we  had!  But  we  won't 
speak  of  blackjacks  along  the  road  any  more ; 
excuse  me,  I  see  it  doesn't  agree  with  you. 
Parson  Barker,  his  hair  combed  back,  his  sallow 
face,  eager  eyes,  alicuys  at  a  white  heat —  Fact 
is,  I  can't  stand  Brother  Barker!"  says  Tim,  with 
considerable  disgust.  "  Only  you  won't  mention 
it.  Miss  Alice,  he  always  puts  me  in  mind,  that 
man,  of  the  Abolition  preachers  we  read  about. 
Mr.  Arthur  is  mistaken,  of  course;  but  no  fa- 
naticism about  him." 

The  question,  as  an  official  one,  weighed,  how- 
ever, on  Tim's  mind.  "I  declare  something 
ought  to  be  done  with  Arthur.  I  believe  my 
Government  would  justify  me — " 

"Oh,  play  your  poker,  and  let  Arthur  alone," 
interrupts  Bob  "Withers,  frank  and  honest  Bob, 
to  whom  the  remark  is  made  that  night  over  the 
cards.  "No,  Tim  ;  no,  Sir-ee ;  you,  by  George  I 
let  the  parson  alone.  I  believe  I've  got  hard 
sense  when  it  isn't  my  own  good  is  concerned, 
and  I've  proved  right,  by  George!  more  than 
once  in  differing  from  your  red-mouthed  Seces- 
sionists, Simmons,  Barker,  and  such.  For  my 
part,  I  tell  you  this  provost-marshaling  business 
won't  do ;  you'll  see  yet  if  it  will.  The  whole 
thing  is  only  a  tremendous  spree  the  South  is 
on,  a  raag-nificent  bender  and  blow-out,  see  if  it 
ain't.  Smash  up,  too,  some  day,  by  George  I 
But  never  mind  all  that ;  it's  poker  we  are  at 
now. 

"I'm  an  awful  wicked  scamp — swear,  drink, 
do  things  worse  still — but  I  cant  lie,  by  George !"' 
says  Bob  in  general,  and  he  says  true. 

"  And,  my  dear,  I  was  almost  shocked,"  Mrs. 
Bowles  was  saying  to  Alice  the  same  night  at 
home,  "at  the  way  you  flirted  with  that  Mr. 
Laraum.  You  forget  that  his  uncle  is  a  Yankee. 
Don't  do  it  any  more,  dear." 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


131 


TOM   18  DEAD  I 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"Weary?  Yes,  even  unto  death,  but  that 
is  it.  Yes,  let  us  ride  up  to  the  Pines  and  spend 
a  week  or  so  witli  Paul  up  there.  A  plain,  rough 
man  is  Paul,  but  a  sincere  and  thoroughly  sens- 
ible one.  He  lives  in  rude  fashion,  but  will  give 
us  a  hearty  welcome.  We  will  try  to  forget  for 
a  while  there  the  very  existence  of  Tim  Lamum— 
we  shall  have  to  get  a  pass  from  him,  by-the-by — 
Dr.  Peel,  Secession,  and  the  Somerville  Star." 

It  is  Guy  Brooks  who  makes  the  suggestion, 
to  which  Mr.  Arthur  eagerly  consents. 

"I  never  was  in  better  health  in  my  life,"  he 
adds,  standing  erect  as  a  grenadier,  and  slap- 
ping his  hands  upon  his  breast.  "  When  I  get 
fairly  into  my  studies  I  take  to  them  with  keen- 
er zest  than  I  ever  did  before — to  get  into  them 
from  Secession  is  the  thing.  If  one  could  only 
get  away  for  a  while,  off  say  among  the  Esqui- 
maux, I  could  shout  there  'Down  with  Davis!' 
till  the  blue  icebergs  rang  again.  Since,  like 
the  starling,  I  can't  get  out,  I  could  roll  myself 
up  like  a  hedgehog  and  sleep  for  six  months- 
such  weariness,  such  intense  anxiety,  and  for  so 
long  now." 

"Ah,  that  is  a  weakness!"  remonstrates  the 
lawyer.  "We  are  at  our  post,  and  must  stand 
manfully  there  !"  As  if  he  himself  did  not  re- 
quire to  be  often  rebuked  by  his  friend— the  Fed- 
erals are  so  long,  so  very  long  in  coming — for 
despondency  and  impatience. 


' '  I  know  it,  since  I  say  it  to  myself  several 
dozen  times  a  day,  l)ut  the  flesh  is  weak  ;  Coun- 
try, Church  of  Cod,  Civilization  even,  so  sud- 
denly swept  from  under  one.  Truth,  Justice, 
Piovidence  itself,  gone.  Ouly,  all  of  it  my  own 
miserable  lack  of  faith  under  trial.  One  will 
lapse  a  little  when  the  weather  is  gloomy,  when 
some  special  wickedness  comes  to  mind,  when 
Secession  gains  some  great  victory,  when  the 
North  seems  to  halt,  perhaps  fall — who  knows 
out  here? — in  its  work,  the  greatest  work,  Guy 
Brooks,  Esq.,"  adds  Edward  Arthur,  boldly, 
"ever  given  a  nation  to  do  since  the  world  be- 
gan!" 

And  this  is  astounding  language  for  even  a 
Union  man  at  the  South  to  use  at  this  period  ; 
tliiuk  it  he  may,  perhaps,  but  say  such  a  thing 
aloud?  No.  "If  one,"  he  continues,  " was 
only  where  one  could  do  any  thing." 

"  You  are  doing  something,"  placid  Mrs.  Sorel 
had  said  to  him  months  before,  when  he  had 
ventured  a  like  remark  to  her  over  the  su])per- 
table.  The  truth  is,  one  iincst  have  some  one  to 
unbosom  one's  self  to,  especially  in  periods  of 
great  trial,  and  by  this  time  Mrs.  Sorel  had  be- 
come to  her  guest  as  a  mother. 

Robby  has  left  the  tabic  before  this.  They 
would  not  mind  speaking  before  him,  however, 
for  he  rarely  goes  to  Somerville  except  on  Sun- 
day with  his  mother;  and  when  he  is  there  he 
has  learned,  from  experience,  to  evade  the  at- 
tempts to  draw  information  from  him  in  regard 
to  his  friends — attempts  which  not  only  Mrs. 
Warner  but  even  Dr.  Ginnis  and  Brother  Barker 
have  not  disdained  to  make.  You  can  teach  a 
child  silence  on  a  given  topic  sooner  than  you 
can  teach  him  to  read — try  it.  Besides,  Mr. 
Arthur  and  Mrs.  Sorel  had  thoroughly  instructed 
Robby  in  the  whole  quarrel.  No  more  devoted 
Union  man  in  the  world  than  Robby. 

"  If  we  only  knew  it,"  she  had  then  replied, 
"  we  would  see  that  the  silent  influences  arc  ever 
the  most  powerful.  What  so  powerful  as  light 
and  heat,  yet  what  so  utterly  without  sound  I 
You  have  quietly,  but  from  the  outset,  occu- 
pied a  position  of  solemn  protest  against  the 
rebellion  —  sermon,  prayers,  conversation,  very 
existence  in  Somerville,  all  an  influence  un- 
swervingly against  it." 

"I  have  tried  to  urge  in  every  way  I  could," 
Mr.  Arthur  then  said,  "  the  supremacy  of  Heaven 
in  this  matter,  as  in  every  thing  else  ;  that  we 
are  being  chastised  for  some  great  and  good  entl 
of  God." 

"That  angry  prayers  arc  never  heard,  that 
trust  in  men  is  vain,  that  violence  of  speech  and 
feeling  is  unchristian.  I  have  never  said  so  be- 
fore, nor  would  I  now  but  to  encourage  you," 
I  adds  quiet  Mrs.  Sorel ;  "  but  your  very  contrast 
to  Mr.  Barker  all  the  time  is  an  influence  in 
Somerville  for  good." 

"Could  Christian  men  outside  the  South,  at 


132 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  North,  in  F^ngland  say,  know  my  course,  I 
think  it  woulil  meet  their  cordial  ai)i)roval ;  I  do 
think  I  would  have  the  synipatliy  of  the  wisest 
and  best  of  my  generation.  In  any  case,"  add- 
ed Mr.  Arthur,  "  I  have  the  hearty  approval  of 
my  own  conscience,  though  deserted  by  so  many 
who  once  esteemed  me." 

The  fact  is,  he  pursued  the  course  he  did  be- 
cause any  other  was  simj^ly  impossible. 

"I  do  not  make  my  conscience  a  law  to  any 
other  man  living,"  he  reasoned  with  Mrs.  Sorel ; 
•but  neither  can  I  make  the  conscience  of  any 
other  a  law  to  me.  My  own  deliberate  convic- 
tion I  must  follow,  even  though  it  leads  me  to 
'a  traitor's  rope,'  as  Mrs.  Warner  says." 

More  than  he  knows  it,  too,  is  there  growing 
up  in  him  one  great  hojte.  From  the  hour  she 
had  first  hurst  upon  him  in  her  mother's  parlor 
a  glowing  school-girl,  swinging  her  sun-bonnet 
in  her  hand  by  its  long  strings,  his  love  for  Alice, 
very  foolish  in  him  as  it  was,  certainly,  had 
grown  up  into  an  absorbing  aftbction.  None  the 
less  that  he  rarely  met  her.  He  was  a  Union 
man  ;  Mrs.  Bowles  knew  it,  and  was  of  opinions 
exceedingly  contrary:  not  for  worlds,  not  for 
Alice  even,  would  lie  intrude  unwelcome.  When 
he  did  visit  Mrs.  Bowles,  too  genuinely  a  lady  to 
allude  to  the  war  save  in  general  terms,  she  con- 
fined herself  to  Kutledge  Bowles,  whose  letters 
few  and  fai"  apart  was  the  food  of  lier  mind  and 
the  fountain  of  her  speech.  Rutledge  Bowles, 
to  Mrs.  Bowles  South  Carolina  incarnate,  was  , 
very  often  in  trouble  in  these  days ;  his  letters 
were  full  of  it :  eternally  seceding  from  Seces- 
sion right  and  left,  east,  west,  soutli — almost,  in 
times  of  peculiar  injustice  to  him,  north  even, 
rather  than  stand  it. 

Mr.  Arthur  often  met  Alice  when  at  her  mo- 
ther's, never  alone,  however.  Sewing  beside  her 
mother,  on  some  one,  generally,  of  the  war  gar- 
ments so  perpetually  demanded  in  the  Somcr- 
ville  Star ;  or  playing  old  music,  or  reading  old 
books — there  were  no  magazines  or  new  books 
now.  He  had  a  fancy  that  a  blush  tinged  her 
smile  at  their  meeting.  Did  he  not  see  her  also 
as  a  teacher  in  the  diminished  Sabbath-school  ? 
Alas,  poor  human  nature !  his  chief  happiness 
on  these  Sabbaths  is  to  meet  Alice  at  Sabbath- 
school,  even  though  mere  sight  and  casual  greet- 
ing was  all. 

Her  mother  never  attended  church  now,  for 
Mr.  Arthur  would  not  pray  for  the  Confederacy. 
But  the  preacher  was  aware  all  the  service 
through  of  one  sweet  face  down  the  aisle,  down 
too  far  away  toward  the  door.  The  solemn  fact ' 
is,  he  selected  his  weekly  text,  and  wrote  every 
line  of  his  sermon  almost  as  much  for  her  as  if 
it  had  been  a  letter.  Had  not  Alice  become  a 
communicant  just  before  Secession?  How  much 
or  how  little  through  his  means  he  never  dared 
ask  himself. 

Long  ago,  if  Secession  had  not  come  in,  would 


he  have  learned  his  fate  at  her  hands.  Yei  he 
believed — that  i.s,  he  hoped — I  mean,  he  felt  as- 
sured—  However,  for  tlie  jiresent,  wait.  Per- 
haps when  the  end  comes  she  will  see  how  right 
I  was  all  along— even  her  mother  may.  Not 
without  terrible  apprehensions  meantime  of  the 
young  gentlemen  in  gray  clothing  and  brass  but- 
tons who  freipientcd  Mrs.  Bowles's  hospitable 
parlor,  rode  witli  her,  took  her  to  parties.  But 
if  a  man  is  not  to  be  governed  by  his  own  intui- 
tion of  the  wisest,  hajipiest  course,  what  is  left 
him  to  do?  So  far,  his  unwavering  intuition  is 
— wait.  But  it  is  for  something  considerably  more 
to  him  than  the  re-establishnient  of  the  Union 
that  he  yearns  in  looking  to  the  end.  Besides, 
he  says,  if  I  was  to  learn  certainly  that  I  have 
no  hope  with  her,  this,  with  the  other  trials,  will 
be  too  great  a  blow  to  bear.  Let  the  hope  live, 
if  only  to  sustain  me  through  these  dark  days. 

Perhaps  it  is  as  well  he  does  not  know  of  the 
letter  Alice  receives  these  days  from  her  brother. 
It  is  soon  after  his  ordeal  before  Tim  Lamnm — 
the  first  but  not  the  last  of  that  dynasty,  liut- 
ledge  Bowles  writes  his  sister  that  he  has  re- 
ceived a  letter  to  the  effect  that  she  is  being  ad- 
dressed by  a  Mr.  Arthur,  a  Union  man  !  Could 
it  have  been  Mrs.  Warner?  Surely  not  Mr. 
Neely  ?  For  these  are,  both  of  them,  too  sharp 
not  to  know  the  kind  of  epistle  Rutledge  Bowles 
will  write  to  his  sister,  with  the  effect  upon  her 
of  that  epistle. 

He  can  conjecture  the  possibility  of  some  such 
letter  to  her  from  her  brother  weeks  after,  how- 
ever. He,  "too,  is  favored  with  one  from  the 
young  Carolinian.  Such  a  letter  that,  after 
reading  the  first  few  lines,  he  refolds  it,  places 
it  again  in  its  envelope  so  redirected  as  to  go 
back  to  its  author,  and  drops  it  in  the  letter-box 
of  the  Post-oflice.  This  does  not  diminish  the 
pride  of  his  attitude  toward  the  one  he  loves  most 
of  all  the  world.  Not  without  a  medicinal  vir- 
tue to  him  is  that  letter,  a  counter-irritant  to  the 
other  inflammation  of  Secession. 

And  thus  does,  even  on  this  fair  yoimg  girl, 
the  great  question  press  heavier  every  day.  No 
neutral  ground  between  the  old  era  and  the  new. 
One  opinion  or  the  other.  And  to  the  opinion 
you  adopt  must  be  given  your  whole  heart  also. 
The  past  is  forever  gone ;  as  to  the  future,  choose ! 

But  by  a  determined  effort  Edward  Arthur 
throws  every  painful  thought  from  him  down 
upon  the  west  wind,  blowing  full  ujjon  and  past 
him,  as  he  rides  away  from  Somerville  this  Au- 
gust morning  beside  Guy  Brooks,  on  their  way 
to  the  Pines.  Riding  avowedly  away  from  Se- 
cession, conversation,  however,  on  all  other  top- 
ics droops  and  dies  before  they  have  got  ten  miles 
out  from  Somerville. 

"One  of  my  old  clients  that  was  that  stopped 
me  as  we  were  mounting,"  said  the  lawyer  at 
last.  "He  was  telling  me  that  he  had  escaped 
the  ranks  by  working  in  a  powder-mill.     T  told 


INSIDE.— A  CUKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


133 


him  he  had  better  have  gone  into  battle  at  once. 
At  least  a  dozen  of  their  trumpery  jiowder-niills 
have  blown  up  in  tliis  section,     ^'illainous — " 

''Mv  dear  Sir,"  remonstrates  his  companion, 
"do  let  us  forf^et  Secession  lor  a  while.  We 
must,  or  we  shall  lose  our  wits.  If  a  cow  gives 
a  shake  of  her  bell  at  night  lying  by  the  calf-lot 
at  Mrs.  Sorel's,  it  wakes  me  instantly  out  of  tlie 
deepest  sleep  to  imagine  it  the  Sonierville  bells 
over  some  great  victory.  I  am  jierpetually  fan- 
cying I  licar  tlie  sound  of  distant  cannon  on  the 
west  w  ind.  If  1  hear  a  shot-gun,  I  say  that  man 
has  heard  some  news.  The  distant  crowing  of 
a  rooster  has  been  to  nie  more  tiian  once  the 
far-oft"  yelling  of  somebody  for  victory.  I  am 
positively  reluctant  to  open  the  Star;  it  is  like 
opening  a  letter  with  a  black  seal.  In  fact,  I 
never  ask  the  news  of  any  but  a  Union  man,  be- 
cause I  know  he  will  break  any  disastrous  tidings 
to  me  in  the  gentlest  possible  way."  Mr.  Ar- 
thur lauglis  as  he  says  it.  "  I  never  knew,"  he 
adds,  "so  well  before  what  the  command  means 
to  jiray  without  ceasing.  I  never  wake  at  night, 
never  recur  to  the  subject  during  the  day,  but  it 
is  with  a  prayer  for  the  Union  on  ray  lips.  You 
may  laugli  at  me,  but  I  never  catch  glimpse 
of  a  leading  Secessionist,  nor  the  house,  child, 
or  dog  of  one  reminding  me  of  him  ;  never  see 
a  war-poster  on  the  walls  ;  never  see  a  Govern- 
ment wagon,  postage  stamp — any  thing  that  re- 
minds me  of  the  great  crime,  but  what  theo- 
logians call  ejaculatory  prayer  burns  on  my 
tongue  for  its  swift  and  utter  destruction." 

"  Yes,  may  Heaven  speedily  crush  the  rebell- 
ion and  give  us  back  law,  order,  civilization,  so- 
ciety, country,  religion,  ourselves.  With  all  my 
soul,  Amen!"  adds  the  lawyer,  to  such  lengths 
of  disloyalty  has  he  arrived.  "However,  don't 
tell  the  Provost  Marshal  I  said  so." 

And  it  is  note-worthy  the  manner  in  which 
Union  men  risk  tlieir  lives  in  each  other's  hands 
in  these  days.  Meet  a  stranger  casually  in  a 
store,  fall  in  with  a  respectable  traveler  along 
the  road,  the  one  topic  is  introduced  as  soon  as 
the  salutations  are  over,  and,  almost  from  the 
first  syllable  on  either  side,  by  tone,  manner, 
bearing — the  subtle  Freemasonry  which  causes 
people  who  feel  alike — lovers  included — to  be 
aware  of  the  fact,  especially  when  they  feel  very 
deeply,  in  half  an  hour  the  stranger  and  your- 
self have  mutually  placed  a  life  in  each  other's 
hands  if  you  both  be  Union  in  sentiment.  Be- 
cause there  is  no  longer  neutrality.  The  gulf 
has  so  deepened  and  widened  by  this  time  be- 
tween the  two  opinions  that  there  can  be  hence- 
forth no  passing  and  repassing.  If  you  and 
your  chance  acquaintance  are  not  Secessionists 
now,  both  of  you  are  to  the  centre  of  your  souls 
the  opposite  to  that,  and  opposite  to  that  forever. 

"Tliat  client  of  mine,"  adds  the  lawyer,  "was 
telling  me  the  various  shifts  to  escape  conscrip- 
tion.    Some  have  gone  to  tanning,  and  the  sort 


of  leather  produced  is  a  sight  to  sec.  Others 
have  rushed  into  the  making  of  salt,  nitre,  sul- 
phur, shoe-pegs — any  thing.  Others  are  Hying 
desperately  around  to  get  the  required  twenty 
scliolars,  to  be  exempted  as  teachers.  One  man, 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  exposes  himself  pur- 
posely to  keep  uji  a  sufficient  rheumatism.  Fco- 
ple  sillier  with  riiptiiic,  neuralgia,  and  every  oth- 
er disease  under  heaven,  to  a  degree  unheard  of. 
Many  a  man  has  suddenly  proved  to  be  many 
years  older  than  his  own  wife  ever  imagined.  I 
have  heard  of  CamjjbcUite  congregations  of  late 
which  have  mutually  ordained  to  the  ministry 
every  male  member  on  their  books — how  true  that 
is  I  don't  say." 

"What  a  mercy  the  comic  will  slip  into  even 
the  most  tragic  !"  puts  in  Mr.  Artliur. 

"  There  is  iliat  client  of  mine,"  continues  Guy 
Brooks,  "a  poor,  honest,  hard-working  man, 
with  a  wife  in  wretched  health  and  a  swarm  of 
white-headed  children.  Jewct  is  his  name — .Si- 
las Jewet — a  fair  specimen  of  really  the  most  vir- 
tuous class  in  the  country.  All  his  life  he  has 
regarded  Disunion  with  as  much  horror  as  a  man 
can  regard  any  thing  which  he  considered  im- 
possible ;  Washington's  Farewell  Address,  framed 
and  glazed,  is  the  only  ornament  there,  hanging 
up  against  the  wall  of  his  cabin.  A  Democrat 
from  his  pine-wood  cradle,  idolizing  Jackson  for 
whi])ping  the  British  at  New  Orleans,  the  Unit- 
ed States  Bank,  and  Nullification.  This  man 
wakes  suddenly  up  to  find  Disunion  a  fact,  and 
Jackson's  alternative  with  South  Carolina  actu- 
ally upon  us.  And  he  must  leave  bedridden  wife 
and  helpless  children,  a  few  rags  of  clothing,  a 
little  corn  in  the  crib,  a  few  pigs,  perhaps  an 
ox  or  two,  their  only  supply,  to  be  gone — he  has 
no  idea  where  nor  for  how  long,  and  to  fight  for 
— Disunion  I  No  alternative  but  to  take  his  shot- 
gun, strip  himself  almost  to  the  skin  for  the  use 
ofliis  suffering  family,  and  march  off  in  a  cause 
he  abhors.  Silas  Jewet  figliting  for  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts,  Tim  Lamum,  Colonel  Juggins,  and  the 
like,  that  they  may  retain  their  negroes,  slaves 
which  they  have  jeopardized  by  their  own  mad 
folly  in  Secession !" 

"  And  this  going  before  board  after  board  to 
be  examined,  displaying  your  hidden  sores,  con- 
cealed diseases,  to  move  their  pity  and  secure 
an  exemption — tasting  slavery  ourselves  to  the 
very  dregs  to  see  how  we  like  it,  as  Ferguson 
says.  And  all  this  the  insolent  triumphing  over 
us  of  men,  at  least  the  most  active  and  prominent 
among  tliem,  grog-shop  politicians,  bullies,  and 
ruffians,  the  very  sediment  hitherto  of  society — " 
And  the  clergyman  emphasizes  his  remark  by 
stopping  his  words  in  full  flow  lest  he  should 
add  what  he  ought  not. 

"The  woods  around  his  house,  Silas  Jewet 
says,"  adds  the  lawyer,  "swarm  with  runaway 
negroes.  Twice  they  have  broken  in,  while  he 
was  away,  upon  his  helpless  family  and  stripped 


134 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  cabin  of  all  the  little  food  there  was  in  it. 
I  couldn't  advise  him  to  run  the  country ;  he 
will  lose  every  stick  of  what  little  he  has  got  if 
!ie  could  move  his  family  even.  Tlie  woods  are 
full  of  runaway  whites  as  it  is,  naked,  starving. 
That  we  should  be  brought  to  this — we,  and  for 
what?" 

"I  tell  you.  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Artliur,  more 
calmly,  "at  first  I  regarded  the  deadly  princi- 
ple of  Secession  as  the  great  sin,  tlie  cause  and 
source  of  our  suffering.  Slaveiy  I  was  born  and 
raised  with,  and  I  never  had  any  very  definite 
idea  in  reference  to  it  before.  I  have  now.  It 
is  the  accursed  root  of  this  accursed  upas.  Could 
any  other  than  a  wrong  thing  have  destroyed 
our  country  as  it  has?  Slavery  is  a  sin.  Sir ;  the 
judgments  of  Heaven  now  on  us  are  God's  wrath 
against  us.  North  and  Soutii,  just  for  this  great 
sin.  And  to  tliink  that  in  tlic  Church  of  God 
itself  this  sin  has  its  last  and  strongest  citadel ; 
God's  great  institution  for  putting  down  sin  in 
the  land  itself  the  most  active  and  powerful  en- 
gine for  its  establishment !  When  Heaven's 
only  instrumentality  for  good  to  a  people  is  thus 
not  only  powerless  for  good,  but  is  actually  the 
most  efficient  means  in  the  land  for  the  sin,  no 
wonder  He  drops  it  as  his  instrumentality  and 
draws  the  sword  instead.  And  nothing  less  than 
God's  awful  judgments  could  open  our  eyes  to 
the  truth." 

"  See  those  two  women  in  that  field  on  your 
left?"  asks  Guy  Brooks,  interrupting  his  friend 
as  they  ride  by  a  road-side  cabin  witli  its  im- 
provements. "Don't  seem  to  notice  them,  but 
look  at  that  largest  one  in  the  big  yellow  sun- 
bonnet — one  with  the  hoe.  Any  thing  remark- 
able about  her  ?" 

"Not  that  I  can  see — why?" 
"Well,  nothing,  only  tlie  one  in  the  blue  bon- 
net is  Mrs.  Peter  Hook,  and  the  other  is — " 

"Her  sister,  lately  from  Carolina.  Yes;  I 
stopped  here  to  get  a  drink  a  few  weeks  ago. 
Mrs.  Hook  told  me,"  says  Mr.  Arthur. 

"You  saw  the  sister — talked  with  her?"  ask- 
ed the  lawyer,  with  a  smile. 

"  N-n-no ;  she  had  just  stepped  out,  Mrs. 
Hook  said." 

"Yes,  and  always  has  just  stepped  out,  who- 
ever calls.     It's  her  husband,  man  !" 

"Why,  I  asked  after  her  husband,"  says  as- 
tonished Mr.  Arthur.  "  She  told  mc  she  had  a 
letter  from  him,  in  some  regiment,  somewhere. 
Was  shot  in  the  leg,  or  something  of  the  sort. 
I  remember  I  tried  to  encourage  her.  She  said 
she  hoped  so,  but  feared  not.  And  that  other 
woman — " 

"Don't  look  back.  Not  five  people  besides 
them  know  of  it.  Dare  say  he  is  used  to  the 
women's  clothes  by  this  time.  Delightful  state 
of  things,  isn't  it?" 

And  while  the  friends  ride  thoughtfully  on 
let  us  in  this  connection  turn  for  an  instant  to 


Colonel  Juggins's  household,  type  and  emblem 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  households  through- 
out the  land. 

"We  ain't  goin'  on  to  their  lot  to  interrupt 
them,"  had  been  Mrs.  Juggins's  reasoning  in  re- 
gard to  the  Yankees.  "  Wiiy  can't  they  stay  at 
home?  If  they  don't  like  ownin'  niggers,  well 
jest  let  them  not  own  them.  Our  havin'  hands 
is  none  of  their  business." 

And  very  cheerfully  indeed  had  Mrs.  Juggins 
equi])ped  Tom,  when  the  war  broke  out,  to  go 
and  help  drive  the  Yankees  back  home.  But 
news  comes,  montlis  and  months  afterward,  that 
Tom  has  been  killed  there  in  Virginia.  Now 
Mrs.  Juggins  is  a  mother ;  Tom  was  licr  son,  her 
only  son.  And  a  very  ordinary  youth,  gawky, 
freckled,  stolid,  was  Tom  Juggins;  but  to  his 
mother  he  was  all  the  world.  When  the  Col- 
onel, coming  back  tliat  disastrous  afternoon  from 
Somemlle,  after  a  dozen  eiForts  to  break  the 
news  to  her,  at  last  takes  out  the  soiled  and 
blotted  letter  from  Henry  Sorel,  wlio  was  in  the 
same  company  with  him,  and  reads  it  out,  break- 
ing down  a  dozen  times  in  the  attempt,  Mrs. 
Juggins's  hands  fall  with  the  knitting  in  them 
into  her  lap  with  a  first  feeling  of  profound  as- 
tonishment. Such  a  thing  had  never  been  en- 
tertained in  her  mind  for  an  instant.  Then  fol- 
lows the  burst  of  grief,  till  all  the  negroes  flock 
into  the  house  from  cabin  and  field  to  know 
what  is  the  calamity.  It  lasts  in  all  its  bitter- 
ness for  weeks ;  loud  weeping  when  it  is  the 
theme  of  conversation  with  friends ;  silent,  steady 
weeping,  the  tears  rolling  for  hours  down  her 
cheek  and  sparkling  upon  her  half-finished  stock- 
ing as  she  knits.  Tom  as  a  baby,  Tom  as  a  lit- 
tle boy,  Tom  at  school,  Tom  a  grown  youth, 
Tom  as  she  last  saw  him  leaving  for  the  war. 

But  now  a  change  is  coming  over  Mrs.  Jug- 
gins wliieh  perplexes  her  husband  wonderfully, 
smoking  his  cob-pipe  on  long  afternoons  with 
old  age  suddenly  fallen  upon  him.  With  every 
body  else,  long  before  Tom's  death  Mrs.  Jug- 
gins has  come  to  know  that  the  war  is,  at  last, 
a  struggle  for  slavery.  And  since,  as  her  grief 
loses,  so  to  speak,  its  first  personality,  she  is 
thinking  the  slavery  question  steadily  over  as 
she  knits — no  Tom  to  knit  for  now,  but  only  from 
habit. 

"You  may  say  what  you  please,"  she  remarks 
to  Brother  Barker,  whose  condolences  are,  some- 
how, singularly  unacceptable  to  her,  "but  my 
Tom  was  more  to  me  than  all  the  hands  ive've 
got.  I'd  give  up  every  black  one  ive've  got,  God 
he  knows,  an'  glad  too,  to  get  our  Tom  back. 
Yes,  every  one  of  them,  from  old  Cudgo,  that 
waited  at  my  mother's  wedding,  and  can  only 
tend  the  young  turkeys,  down  to  that  last  little 
thing  born  in  Sukey's  house  last  night.  It's 
them  this  fight  is  about.  In  my  'pinion  one 
white  man  like  my  Tom  is  worth  all  the  niggers 
in  the  world.      The  Colonel  there,  he  says  I 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


135 


nuistn't  say  ii;  but  I've  alwnvs  said,  for  one,  all  ,  the  stump  and  tell  tliose  peojjle,  If  you  care  so 
luy  life  what  I  tliink,  I  don't  care  who  knows  raucli  for  the  slavery  of  the  blacks,  at  least  care 
it;  and  if  any  body  else  thinks  slavery  is  wortii  soniethinf;  for  the  worse  slavery  of  the  whites 
all  the  men  bein'  killed  and  all  the  other  ruin  among  us,  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  come 
brought  upon  us  for  it,  /don't.  As  to  what  you  and  help  us.  I  do  think  I  could  stir  them  up 
say  about  the  Bible  bein'  for  it,  viai/  be  so  ;  there's  to  move  a  little  faster,  to  tell  them  of  the  accursed 
a  sight  of  things  connected  with  it.  Many  a  despotism  under  which  we  j)erish.  Hut  then  I 
time  ever  since  I  could  remember  I've  asked  ;  hate  to  leave,  and  I  hate  to  go,  on  every  account, 
myself —  However,  no  matter,  that's  neither  Many  Union  men  about  the  Pines  have  been 
here  nor  there;  but  it  seems  to  me  a  curious  shot  from  behind  trees,  hung  along  the  road- 
sort  of  thing  for  God  to  be  for.  For  our  Jesus  side,  sent  out  of  the  county  in  irons,  Heaven 
Christ,  say,  to  be  for.     Or  I  wonder  if  Tom's    knows  where.     This  is  the  main  reason  of  my 


death  is  nnikin'  me  kind  o'  unsettled  in  mind, 
this  slavery  'pears  so  difrent.  An'  you  believe 
it  I'.s-  of  God,  irise  an'  rirlain,  now?"  she  asks  of 
Hrother  Barker  with  such  eyes,  as  her  hands 
fall  with  the  knitting  in  them  into  her  lap,  that 
even  that  Brother,  eager  to  reply,  has  queer 
sensations  uji  his  spine  as  he  docs  so. 

For  his  wife's  practical  sense  Colonel.Juggins 
lias  ever  had  the  highest  esteem,  and  her  remarks 
to  hira  when  they  are  lying  side  by  side  under 
the  dingy  old  tester,  or  when  he  is  smoking  his 
pipe,  have  opened  a  totally  new  train  of  thought 
in  his  mind.  You  see  at  the  South  we  all  took 
the  institution  as  a  matter  of  course  from  our 
i>irth.  But  many  thousands  are  smoking  the 
same  thing  in  their  jnpos  now.  Is  slavery  worth 
the  ruin  it  has  caused?  Could  any  other  than 
a  thing  essentially  bad  have  produced  such  ruin  ? 
Up  to  that  date,  however,  very  rarely  did  the 
universal  thinking  utter  itself  in  words.  Ah,  it 
is  too  vast  a  result  to  be  reached  by  other  than 
much  thinking,  even  though  that  thinking  be 
([uickened  by  swift-succeeding  and  tremendous 
events. 

It  was  generally,  though  silently,  agreed  that 
it  was  not  a  good  idea  Brother  Barker  preach- 
ing that  sermon  on  the  Exodus  from  Egypt. 
True,  an  anonymous  admirer  requested  it  by 
note ;  he  was  hardly  well  through  the  discourse 
but  Brother  Barker  suspected  a  trap,  and  he 
rages  inwardly  over  it  these  days  like  a  caged 
fox.  For  Mr.  Arthur  has  been  urging  of  late 
that  the  Almighty  is  pledged  against  all  wrong 


going  up  now,"  adds  the  lawyer — "my  anxiety 
in  reference  to  Paul." 

"That  accounts,"  said  his  companion,  "for 
those  three  columns  of  abuse  of  the  citizens  up 
there  in  the  last  Number  of  the  Star.  It  is  the 
most  ferocious  thing  I  have  yet  seen  in  the 
paper." 

And  it  was.  Mrs.  "Warner,  wlio  had  fallen 
into  the  habit  of  reserving  the  strongest  "docu- 
ments" met  with  during  the  day  to  read  to  her 
unhap])y  husband  at  night,  had  accom])lishcd 
two  objects  on  the  Doctor  by  the  reading  to 
him  of  that  article,  curdled  the  very  blood  in 
his  veins,  and  convinced  him  that  it  was  the 
]iroduction  of  a  more  frantic  pen  than  that  of 
Lamuni — even  Brother  Barker's. 

It  charged  the  objects  of  its  rage  with  being 
Abolitionists  banded  into  a  conspiracy  to  mur- 
der and  rob  in  the  pay  of  the  Federals — describ- 
ing its  leader  as  the  avowed  infidel  who  had  re- 
cently disturbed  a  peaceful  congregation  gath- 
ered together  for  the  worship  of  God  by  intrud- 
ing his  blasphemous  atrocities.  "More  here- 
after." The  paper  added,  "  That  a  single  one  of 
these  miserable  traitors  has  escaped  so  long  does 
little  credit  to  the  undoubted  loyalty  of  the  coun- 
try. These  are  no  times  for  the  regular  process- 
es of  the  law ;  let  the  rifle  and  the  rope  do  its 
just  and  speedy  work  upon  them  !" 

"And  Amen,  say  I,"  added  Mrs.  Warner  in 
conclusion  ;  "  and  I  wouldn't  wonder.  Dr.  War- 
ner— ah,  you  needn't  drop  that  head  of  yours,  if 
you  are  one  of  this  band  of  traitors.  President 


as  it  exists  in  the  world,  now  as  ever,  and  has  j  of  them,  for  what  I  know ;  you  are  a  Union 
used,  is  using,  and  will  use  all  elements  and  man,  and  you  know  it !"  Viler  abuse  than  is 
agencies  for  its  overthrow.  |  intended  by  that  epithet  even  Mrs,  Warner  can 

"I  confess  I  am  uneasy  in  regard  to  Paul,"  i  not  use. 
Guy  Brooks  is  remarking  to  his  companion  as  For  the  last  half  hour  the  travelers  have  rid- 
they  ride  along,  and  after  a  lengthened  silence.  '  den  along  in  silence,  Guy  Brooks  with  his  head 
"I  fear  trouble  is  brewing  up  there  in  the  Pines,  declined  in  thought— thought  evidently  so  deep 
There  are  many  Union  men  living  there.  They  i  and  painful  that  his  friend  hesitates  to  break  in 
have  kept  very  quiet  all  this  time,  never  express-    upon  it  by  a  syllable. 

iiig  their  opinions,  at  least  except  to  each  other,  I  "  Mr.  Arthur,"  says  the  lawyer  at  length. 
violating  no  law,  staying  as  closely  at  home  as  looking  np  at  his  companion  with  an  expression 
possible  about  their  business.  As  many  as  could  of  deepest  anxiety,  yet  almost  childlike  supplica- 
have  fled  the  State  from  conscription,  and  are  tion,  "you  are  my  s])iritual  guide,  now  what  do 
scattered  about  wherever  they  can  go,  unable  to  you  say?  You  know  Lamum  has  often  urged 
hear  from  or  assist  their  families.  For  myself  I  ujjon  the  mob  to  murder  me  ;  I  am  as  liable  as 
don't  want  to  go  into  the  Federal  lines  if  I  can  any  man  to  be  shot,  as  so  many  have  been,  from 
help  it!     If  I  did  I  might  be  tcmjjted  to  take    behind  a  tree;  besides,  they  are  sure,  sooner  or 


136 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


later,  to  force  me  into  the  ranks,  even  if  I  escape 
that.  Now  what  ought  a  man  to  do?  It  isn't 
that  my  business  is  broken  up,  that  so  many  of 
my  old  friends  have  become  personal  enemies, 
that  I  sacrifice  everj'  cent  I  have  on  cartli  by 
going,  that  if  I  am  caught  on  the  way  my  life 
will  be  taken.  What  I  hate  is  to  desert  the 
South,  wrong  as  the  South  is.  Then  the  idea 
of  actually  enlisting  in  tlie  Federal  army  and 
systematically  killing  my  own —  If  they  would 
only  let  a  man  alone.  1  am  not  disobeying  a 
law  they  have  made,  am  doing  nothing  against 
their  Confederacy.  But  the  idea  of  actually 
fighting  for  this  thing,  and  I  know  they'll  force 
me  in  at  last.  I  have  fifty  hands  down  on  my 
place;  but  as  to  fighting  for  slavery!  I  don't 
say  slavery  is  a  sin  or  any  thing  of  that  sort, 
but  as  to  fighting  for  it  I  can't,  and  I  won't. 
God  Almighty  seems  to  be  against  it — any  way 
I'm  not  going  to  fight  for  it  or  for  the  ruin  of 
the  South,  which  I  know  Secession  to  be.  I  hate, 
too,  to  leave  you  to  struggle  on,  matters  in  the 
church  getting  worse  every  day.  What  do  you 
say?" 

The  Kentucky  lawyer  has  spoken  with  energy, 
turning  in  his  saddle  as  he  rides,  and  looking 
his  friend  full  in  the  face.  And  it  is  not  the 
first  time  the  minister  has  been  applied  to  for 
advice  of  the  kind.  Mothers  and  wives  of  mem- 
bers of  his  church,  young  men  members  also, 
had  come  to  him :  "What  is  my  duty,  Sir,  as  a 
Christian  man  in  reference  to  escaping  or  en- 
during conscription — risk  it,  or  escajjc,  if  I  can, 
North,  which  ?"  Ah,  how  fen'cntly  had  the  pas- 
tor sought  divine  instruction  in  order  to  instruct 
others.  What  can  he  say  ?  seek  the  guidance  of 
Heaven  in  Scripture,  prayer,  and — Providence. 
"It  seems  to  me,"  he  now  said  to  his  friend 
in  conclusion,  "  that  you  should  wait  the  plain 
indications  of  Providence.  Don't  act  an  instant  ] 
before  it  is  essential  you  should  act.  The  fog 
opens  only  as  we  advance  into  it.  Wait.  Let 
your  hand  lie  in  that  of  your  Heavenly  Father. 
He  will  make  it  so  plain  you  will  not  even  liesi- 
tate  when  the  time  comes.  '  Wait  on  the  Lord : 
be  of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen  thy 
heart:  wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord.'  " 

We  all  know  the  Ruler  of  all  uses  devils  in  all 
their  degrees  to  accomplish  His  i)urposes — devils 
damned  already  for  centuries,  and  those  not  as 
yet  in  hell,  as  much  as  He  docs  the  angels  in 
heaven,  and  those  not  yet  arrived  thither  from 
earth.  In  fact,  when  you  consider  it,  so  far  as 
things  now  are,  it  is  of  all  His  human  instrument- 
alities the  diabolical  ones  He  most  uses,  these 
being  so  much  the  most  numerous — ay,  and  en- 
ergetic. 

But  the  travelers  have  by  this  time  reached  a 
creek  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  home  of  Paul 
Brooks.  It  is  a  wild  and  barren  spot.  The 
road  runs  along  through  deep  sand  and  under 
pine-trees  rearing  their  heads  far  above,  inter- 


mingling their  boughs  there  in  unceasing  whis- 
perings ;  only  the  tapping  of  the  woodjjecker 
uj)on  the  dead  branches  relieving  the  steady 
murmur,  now  rising,  now  falling,  overhead,  with 
a  surge  as  of  the  sounding  sea.  Riding  slowly 
along  through  the  solitude,  conversing  in  low 
tones,  they  come  immediately,  and  by  a  sudden 
turn  of  the  road,  ujjon  the  creek,  which,  running 
for  a  time  jjarallel  to  the  road,  now  rushes,  swollen 
by  late  rains  and  (juite  a  torrent,  across  their 
way,  turbid  and  half  covered  with  tlie  needles 
and  cones  of  the  jiines  swept  away  in  its  course 
through  the  forest.  For  some  minutes  past  there 
has  been  the  roaring  as  of  falling  water,  and  they 
now  observe  that,  on  the  left  of  the  road,  and 
not  a  dozen  yards  off,  the  creek  suddenly  falls 
over  the  edge  of  a  deep  and  circular  chasm. 

They  say  the  hazel  wand  bends  in  the  hand 
toward  water  flowing  far  underground.  Cer- 
tainly the  iron  filing  blindly  obeys  tlie  attraction 
of  the  magnet.  And  whenever,  you  tnust  have 
observed  it,  there  bo  an  object  near  you  charged 
with  that  which  will  waken  within  you  to  excess 
joy  or  sorrow,  like  or  dislike,  love  or  loathing, 
the  very  object  itself  would  seem  to  exert  a 
jjower  upon  you  direct,  and  through  none  of  the 
five  channels  by  means  of  which  objects  of  lesser 
interest  flow  in  ujton  the  mind. 

Certain  it  is  both  travelers  at  the  same  instant, 
and  swayed  by  the  same  unaccountable  influ- 
ence, turn  their  horses  and  ride  to  the  edge  of 
the  chasm.  Horror!  Do  their  eyes  deceive 
them  ?  The  water  has  washed  out  a  round  pool 
some  twenty  feet  across,  falling  into  it  down  the 
bank  of  the  gully  with  a  fall  of  ten  or  fifteen 
feet,  and  now  runs  in  the  hole  it  has  made  round 
and  round  ere  it  finds  its  outlet  under  a  fallen 
log,  and  so  down  the  slope.  Runs  slowly  round 
and  round,  bearing  uj)on  its  surface,  half-discern- 
ible among  the  floating  pine  leaves,  cones,  and 
trash,  the  bodies  of  murdered  men.  A  bearded 
face  turns  uj)  full  to  view — One.  Discerned  by 
the  naked  knees  floating  only  just  above  the 
drift — Two.  Next  it,  the  bushy  toj)  of  the  head 
of  some  one — Three.  No  doubt  about  the  next  ; 
the  body  is  stark  naked  and  floats  at  full  length, 
swollen,  ghastly — Four.  Yonder  is  only  a  hand, 
barely  distinguishable  among  the  trash — Five. 
Another  in  the  corner  there,  the  hairy  chest 
broad  and  full  above  the  water — Six.  Yet  an- 
other, the  naked  shoulders  and  back  above  the 
water,  look — with  long  and  livid  streaks  laced 
across  from  right  to  left,  from  left  to  right — 
Seven.     And  that  is  all. 

No.  As  they  gaze  in  speechless  horror  an- 
other dead  body  rises  suddenly  up  from  under 
the  water,  forced  up  by  the  current,  in  an  erect 
posture,  the  breast  toward  them  ;  they  can  only 
see  the  bottom  of  the  bearded  chin,  for  the  head 
has  fallen  back  from  the  hideous  gash  across  the 
throat — Eight. 

Bear  witness,    O  heart-searching  God,   that 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


137 


•niE   FATE  OF  UNION  MEN. 


herein  no  syllabic  is  written  not  in  exact  accord- 
ance with  truth  ;  bear  witness,  for  Thou  didst  see 
it!  P3if;ht  men,  poor  men,  honest  men,  well- 
meaning,  hard-working  men,  torn  at  midnight 


from  their  shriekinp  families,  borne  off  into  the 
silent  forest,  scourged,  stabbed,  shot,  gashed, 
killed — no  man  of  the  murderous  gang  but  had 
his  hand  on  each  victim  in  some  way. 


138 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


And  for  what  ?  Simjily  fur  doubting  whether 
the  destruction  of  their  country  was  a  wise  thing, 
a  good  thing.  Simply  for  being  unable  either 
to  change  their  convictions  or  to  lie  and  play 
the  hypocrite  in  regard  to  those  convictions. 
Only  for  what  they  are  supposed  to  think  and 
feel ;  with  having  done  or  intending  to  do  any 
thing  no  man  charges  them.  "Union  men, 
damn  them!"  tliat  was  indictment,  sentence, 
death  warrant.  During  less  time  than  we  have 
been  narrating  this  the  two  friends  gaze  uj)on 
the  scene.  Then,  by  the  same  simultaneous  im- 
pulse, they  turn  their  horses,  standing  back  snort- 
ing with  terror  and  struggling  from  the  spot  into 
the  road  again,  and  gallop  on  as  if  for  their  lives. 
The  lawyer  guides  his  animal  witii  his  left  hand, 
holding  his  revolver  cocked  in  his  right.  Not  a 
syllable  between  them  as  they  ride.  On  through 
the  creek  regardless  of  its  swollen  depth,  on 
along  the  heavy  sand ;  the  road  winds  here, 
winds  there,  up  declivity,  down  into  hollow — 
will  they  never  reach  I'aul's  place  ? 

Here  it  is,  at  least  tlie  field,  every  rail  inclos- 
ing it  cut,  split,  and  built  into  its  jdace  by  Paul's 
own  hard  and  honest  hands.  Another  turn  of 
the  road.  There  is  the  spot.  Only  a  chimney 
or  two,  a  heap  of  smoking  ashes  and  charred 
logs  lying  between !  As  the  lawyer  glances 
around  him,  his  panting  horse  reined  up  in  the 
gap  of  the  torn-down  fence,  his  companion  points 
him  to  two  men  standing  a  hundred  yards  oif. 
The  lawyer  is  upon  them  in  a  few  bounds  of  his 
horse. 

"For  God's  sake  don't  shoot,  stranger!"  one 
of  them  yells,  falling  on  his  knees  on  the  muddy 
ground.  The  other,  a  negro,  has  turned  to  fly, 
but  it  is  an  open  field  before  him,  he  fears  being 
shot  as  he  runs,  and  thinks  it  safest  to  halt  and 
fall  and  imj»lore  for  his  life.  A  trembling,  yel- 
low-faced, copperas  clothed  white  man,  and  a 
ragged  negro,  these  are  all. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake  don't  shoot  a  fellow  till 
you  can  hear  him.  1  ain't  no  Union  man.  No, 
Siree.  May  God  Almighty — "  and  here  the 
shivering  wTCtch  lifts  one  hand  to  Heaven  and 
imprecates  the  most  awful  curses  upon  himself 
if  he  is,  A  perjury ;  he  is  a  Union  man :  what- 
ever of  mind  and  soul  he  has  is  invested  to  its 
last  particle  in  that  direction. 

"1  no  Union  man  nudder,  Lor  a  massy  don't 
shoot  dis  yer  chile.  I  Suvcrn  man,  Suvern 
man,  Massa !  I  mighty  willin'  you  hang  Massa 
Brooks!  Suppose  he  alive  I  help  you  hang  him 
ef  you  say  so.  He  Union  man,  he — "  and  the 
negro  heaps  oaths  upon  the  head  of  Paul  Brooks 
to  a  degree  which  would  have  satisfied  even  Dr. 
Peel,  perhaps  Brother  Barker. 

"You  hush!"  says  his  companion,  angrily, 
lifting  a  hoe  in  his  hands.  "You  hold  yer  ri- 
diculous tongue,  or  if  the  stranger  don't  kill  you 
I  will!" 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  continues  the  man, 


in  hurried  tones,  and  greatly  relieved  as  the  law- 
yer lowers  his  revolver.  "  You  see,  it  looks  queer 
to  leave  the  dead  body  out  that  way  in  the  open 
field,"  he  says,  rajiidly  and  deferentially.  "The 
smell,  you  know.  Them  buzzards,  too.  Be- 
sides the  man  is  dead,  bad  as  he  mought  be.  A 
fellow  couldn't  know  any  body  would  object  to 
huryin'  him,  you  see.  I  live  near  by,  up  the 
creek.  No  Union  man — Hoi  Robbins,  you  may 
have  hcarn  the  name.  Ev'rv'  body  about  here 
knows  Hoi  Robbins,  Catfish  Robbins  they  some- 
times call  me,  mouth  like  a  catfish's,  you  see. 
Well,  I  says  to  Hark  here  to-day,  'Hark,  you 
take  the  spade,  I'll  take  your  hoe,  we'll  go  over 
an'  bury  Brooks.'  Not  that  I  aii})rove  them  sen- 
timents of  his,  gentlemen,  not  one  bit  of  it,  but 
he  was  a  sort  of  neighbor,  you  know,  close  neigh- 
bor.  Fact  is,  a  kind  neighbor  in  sickness,  lend- 
in'  a  fellow  a  day's  work  now  an'  then  gettin'  in 
his  fodder  an'  sich  like.  A  few  dollars  p'raps 
'casionally.  And  then  them  buzzards  an'  the 
smell  an'  all.  Besides,  my  ole  woman,  she 
say.s— " 

"Lor,  yes,  Massa,"  broke  in  the  negro,  "dars 
de  grave  yonder  to  show  fur  it,  jest  finishin', 
Massa  Catfish  an'  I,  when  you  come  up,"  and 
the  negro  points  eagerly  to  a  spot  beneath  the 
nearest  tree,  evidently  a  grave  just  filled  up. 
The  eye  of  the  lawyer  catches  at  a  glance  the 
rojjc  hanging  from  the  lower  liml).  Instinctive- 
ly he  rides  nearer  to  read  what  is  written  on  a 
leaf,  evidently  torn  from  an  old  ledger,  fastened 
with  wooden  pins  to  the  bough  just  beside  where 
the  rope  is  tied : 

he  makes  it  out,  rudely  scrawled  upon  the  paper 
with  a  bit  of  charcoal. 

Silently  the  two  friends  sit  upon  their  horses, 
gazing  upon  the  sujjcrscrijition,  understanding 
the  whole  story  almost  as  well  as  if  they  had  wit- 
nessed it  all  with  their  own  eyes.  The  unlatch- 
ed cabin  door  burst  suddenly  in  at  night ;  the 
sleeping  man  overpowered  in  his  bed  by  a  dozen 
men  upon  him  before  he  is  well  awake  ;  the  des- 
perate struggle  amidst  execrations  and  yells ; 
the  sturdy  form  of  the  Kentuckian  dragged  at 
last  beneath  the  tree,  bound  hand  and  foot,  by 
men  insane  from  strychnine  whisky,  drunk  abund- 
antly for  that  very  purpose;  the  rude  cabin  plun- 
dered and  fired  behind  its  owner ;  the  sublime 
bearing  of  the  man,  as  of  Another  IMan  in  like 
situation  before  him ;  the  rojje  hurriedly  fitted 
around  the  sturdy  throat  under  the  bushy  beard 
to  stop  his  words  before  they  can  move  them 
from  their  purjjose. 

A  kind  of  paralysis  is  upon  the  two  friends  as 
they  sit,  and  grow  years  older  as  they  gaze. 
They  as  liable  to  the  same  death  at  nny  instant 
as  he. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION, 


139 


Yet,  let  the  pluin  trutli  be  tnKi,  tliey  were  less 
iitl'ected  than  you  would  luive  been  if  jou  live 
any  where  in  the  civilized  world  outside  the 
Southern  States  of  America.  It  would  have 
been  strange,  indeed,  if  these  two  liad  not  long 
since  grown  accustomed  to  men  dying  by  vio- 
lence. No  event  more  familiar  to  them  than 
that.  Men  falling  dead  from  their  horses  by  a 
bullet  through  them  from  behind  as  they  ride 
along  the  highway ;  men  called,  by  day  or  by 
night,  to  their  door  by  a  halloo  from  tlie  front 
fence,  and  shot  down  at  the  feet  of  wife  and 
children;  men  killed  in  a  "fair  fight"  in  the 
streets  after  having  gone  armed  for  months,  the 
one  aim  of  each  being  to  kill  his  foe  before  his 
foe  can  get  a  shot  at  him  ;  men  killed  accident- 
ally, by-standers  in  a  store  or  along  the  street, 
by  some  one  of  the  bullets  generally  distributed 
plentifully  around  during  the  settling  of  some 
such  "difficulty."  In  all  tiieir  varieties  such 
deaths  had  formed  a  large  ))art  of  the  practice 
of  the  lawyer,  of  the  death-bed  visitation  of  the 
minister.  Pity  if  they  had  not  got  soniewliat 
used  to  such  things  by  this  time.  Murder?  No- 
thing more  thoroughly  familiar  to  them  than 
that.  But  in  all  their  double  experience,  ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  a  negro  or  two,  and  that  by 
a  mob,  not  one  single  murderer  put  to  death  by 
law  for  his  crime. 

Let  only  the  truth  be  told.  Not  for  money 
were  men  killed  in  the  South,  or  very  rarely  at 
least  before  the  war.  Very  rarely  on  account 
of  seduction,  that  crime  being  almost  unknown  ; 
whether  or  no  the  abundance,  and  the  perfect 
accessibility  of  females  of  a  darker  hue  prevent- 
ed the  attempting  of  seduction  who  shall  say? 
Anger  from  any  one  of  ten  thousand  causes — 
anger  in  first  flash,  or  anger  cooled  into  the 
steel  of  revenge :  this  is  the  grand  cause.  But 
neither  of  these  two  had  ever  stood  so  near  the 
hanging  of  a  man  before.  They  had  often,  of 
course,  heard  of  the  hanging  of  Abolitionists  and 
iiorse  thieves,  but  for  murderers  there  was  only 
the  jail,  out  of  which  they  soon  "broke;"  in 
particularly  atrocious  cases  the  Penitentiary, 
from  which  a  pardon  sooner  or  later  released 
them. 

Not  that  law  at  the  South  was  an  inactive 
thing.  The  unsleeping  vigor  and  vigilance  of 
the  law  of  the  land  in  regard  to  negro  property, 
for  instance ;  its  eye  upon  the  slave,  and  upon 
any  one  even  suspected  of  entertaining  doubts 
upon  the  institution,  was  as  that  of  the  Eumen- 
ides.  As  to  its  grasp  u])on  the  murderer,  tlic 
hold  of  an  aged  crone,  toothless,  blind,  deaf, 
paralytic,  palsied,  were  comparison  too  flatter- 
ing to  the  law. 

Years  ago  Edward  Arthur,  and  ministers  like 
him,  had  urged  the  Scriptures  of  God  on  the 
subject,  and  the  certain  judgments  of  God,  too, 
upon  the  land.  Even  if  slavery  be  a  divine  or- 
dinance, insuring  the  protection  and  peculiar  fa- 


vor ')f  Heaven,  murder  is  not.  He  urged  the  sin 
and  its  certain  national  eonsetiuences  as  earnest- 
ly, fresh  from  the  civilization  of  Scripture,  as  if 
he  had  just  arrived  from  the  civilization  of  Ed- 
inburgh;  and  witli  what  result? 

"  By  George,  parson,  you're  right;  only  no- 
body minds  at  last,"  said  Bob  Withers. 

"For  my  part,  Mr.  Arthur,  1  really  can  not 
understand,  can  not  understand  how  you  can 
bring  yourself  to  speak  so  of  your  own  section  !" 
And  imieh  more  from  Mrs.  Warner,  snuft"  stick 
in  month,  to  the  same  effect. 

It  is  a  Southern  hand  writes  this,  a  heart  true 
in  every  fibre  to  the  South  ])rompts  it:  If  ever 
Nineveh  needed  the  threat ;  if  ever  London  need- 
ed, in  its  great  plague  and  great  fire,  the  execu- 
tion of  the  divine  wrath  upon  it  for  its  sins,  then 
did  the  South  need  the  tornado  of  war  rushing 
over  it  for  its  sins.  "The  earth  was  filled  with 
violence."  That  it  was  that  brought  tlie  Del- 
uge ;  and,  chief  among  its  causes,  this,  too,  it 
was  which  brought  upon  the  South  its  deluge  of 
fire  and  blood.  Not  that  the  slave-holding  States 
arc,  or  were,  the  worst  in  Christendom  ;  as  much 
piety  there,  in  proportion  to  the  population — as 
much  of  many  an  excellence — as  in  any  jjart  of 
the  world  :  certain  virtues,  even,  as  peculiar  to 
and  characteristic  of  the  South  as  is  the  mag- 
nolia and  palmetto  to  and  of  its  soil.  None  the 
less  is  all  this  true.  They  say  that  the  per., 
centage  of  illegitimate  births  is  larger  in  Scot- 
land than  in  any  other  jiart  of  Europe  —  for 
which  Heaven's  justice  will  be  meted  to  it  at 
last!  It  is  one  human  nature  every  where,  in 
some  form  of  weakness  and  wickedness  in  each 
of  us.  "The  whole  world  lieth  in  sin,"  but  it 
is  of  the  South  we  happen  now  to  speak. 

During  the  few  moments  Guy  Brooks  has  been 
gazing  upon  the  superscription  over  his  broth- 
er's grave,  as  true  a  superscription  as  that  oth- 
er the  world  wots  of,  Hoi  Robbins,  peering  anx- 
iously, then  curiously  with  his  small  ej'cs  at  the 
lawyer  from  under  the  flapj)ing  brim  of  his  old 
wool  hat,  has  come  upon  another  idea. 

"Look  here.  Squire,"  he  begins  rajiidly  to 
say,  "you  are  Squire  Brooks,  ain't  you?"  The 
expression  of  the  lawyer's  face  has  satisfied  him 
of  that,  however,  and  with  keen  reference  to  the 
revolver  in  the  brother's  hand  he  proceeds  rap- 
idly : 

"Look  here.  Squire,  don't  you  go  and  believe 
one  word  I  said  about  my  not  bein'  a  Union 
man — "  And  at  this  point  IIol  Robhins  takes 
oft'  his  old  hat,  throws  it  on  the  ground,  and  with 
both  his  yellow  hands  above  his  head  proceeds  to 
such  imprecations  ui)on  himself  if  he  is  a  Seces- 
sionist, such  a  throwing  his  entire  soul  into  the 
matter  as  puts  his  assertion  beyond  all  doubt. 

"An'  I  never  knowed  about  it  till  next  day, 
Squire,"  he  says  at  last.  "But  ef  I  had  a 
knnwcd  what  could  I  a  done?  One  man,  you 
know — only  Catfish  Bobbins.     S'pose  they'd  not 


140 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


a  come  by  an'  killed  me,  too,  ef  I'd  been  any 
'count?  Day's  been,  Squire,  when  I  could  a 
done  somethin'.  What  with  hard  work,  fever 
an'  ague,  an'  the  whole  country  almost  agin  a 
fellow.  However,  there's  one  thing  I  hin  do." 
And  turning  toward  the  ruins  of  the  cabin  he 
proceeds  with  hands,  arms,  feet,  every  fibie  of 
his  body  as  well  as  his  tongue,  to  curse  the  mur- 
derers in  such  a  lava  of  heart-felt  execration  as 
to  bring  down  upon  him  the  stern  rebuke  of  the 
lawyer  and  minister  even  in  that  moment  of 
horror  and  hate. 

Catfish  Kobbins  lets  falls  his  outstretched  arm, 
and,  ignoring  the  minister,  looks  at  the  brother 
with  perplexity  in  all  the  lines  of  his  yellow  and 
witliered  face. 

"Why  you  ain't  no  parson.  Squire,"  he  says 
at  last;  "any  rate  yon  ain't  jiiouscr  than  God 
Elmighty  Himself,  an'  lie  is  a  cussin'  sich  devils 
as  them  in  hell  an'  outer  hell  all  the  time.  Yan- 
kee Secessionists  a'most  all  of  them  devils  were. 
Jest  what  a  cotton-mouth  moccasin  in  August 
is  to  a  chicken  snake  at  Christmas  a  Yankee 
Secessionist  is  to  a  Southern-born  one — jiis'nous  ! 
Don't  matter,"  he  adds,  brightening  up  after  a 
pause  and  replacing  his  old  hat,  "I'm  a  cussin' 
them  men  all  tiie  time,  any  how,  and  keep  my 
boy  Hark  here  at  it  too.  It's  my  prayers  when 
I  first  wake  up  of  a  mornin',  between  the  tails 
of  my  plow,  hoin'  corn,  eatin'  dinner,  dreamin'  at 
night,  under  my  breath  when  I'm  among  them 
sort  of  scoundrels — never  stop.  You  couldn't  a 
knowed  this  Paul  Brooks  as  well  as  1 1" 

Meanwhile,  in  consequence  of  an  order  to  that 
effect  from  the  lawyer  and  with  lively  remem- 
brance of  his  previous  remarks  and  the  lawyer's 
revolver,  the  negro  has  climbed  the  fatal  tree 
with  the  agility  of  a  monkey,  obtained  the  paper, 
and  given  it  to  the  brother.  Folding  it  up  care- 
fully as  if  it  were  a  bank-note  he  places  it  secure- 
ly in  his  breast-pocket. 

"Now  blaze  the  tree  with  your  axe,"  he  adds 
to  the  negro.  "Not  that  side,  this  side  toward 
the  cabin.  That  will  do,  thank  you."  His  voice 
is  so  gentle  Catfish  Robbins  and  the  negro  both 
glance  at  him  with. surprise. 

"  Stay,"  he  adds ;  "  Robbins,  I  thank  you  for 
your  kindness  to  the  dead.  I  can't  talk  now. 
Another  day,  when  God  pleases,  I  certainly  will 
repay  you.     Now  go." 

"Wait  a  moment,  Squire,"  says  Hoi  Robbins. 
"Not  now,  go!"  says  the  lawyer,  impatiently. 
"  About  his  property,  you  bein'  the  heir — " 
"What  do  you  want?" 

"Oil,  nothin',  nothin'  at  all.  What  I  was 
tryin'  to  say  is,  you  needn't  go  an'  distress  your- 
self s'posin'  there  was  so  much  plunder  burned 
up  or  tooken  away  by  them  devils.  Fact  is, 
there  was  almost  none.  You  see  he'd  been 
strippin'  himself,  givin'  first  to  one  an'  then  to 
another  till  a'most  nothin'  was  left.  Families 
of  people  whose  husbands  had  gone  to  the  war, 


you  see :  other  families,  too,  whose  men  folks 
had  run  away  to  keep  from  goin'  to  the  war.  1 
see  his  last  blanket  down  at  Widow  Maxwells 
only  last  week." 

"  Well,  go  now  !" 

"  Hold  on,  Squire,  you  wouldn't  mind  a  poor 
fellow  bavin'  some  of  these  yer  old  rails?"  says 
H(d  Robbins,  coaxingly  ;  "maulin'  rails  ain't  su 
funny  with  me  as  it  used  to  was,  fever  an'  ague — " 

"Take  any  thing  you  wish  of  what  is  left  on 
the  place.  Stop.  Roll  two  or  three  large  logs 
over  this  grave." 

"'Count  of  them  hogs  an'  things.  It  was 
rather  shaller,  that  is  the  fact — " 

But  what  consolation  can  the  minister  use  as 
they  ride  oft'  at  last  from  the  spot  ?  He  says 
what  he  can,  but  to  deaf  ears ;  his  companion  is 
too  deep  in  thought  to  yield  attention.  He 
ceases  at  last,  and  they  ride  along  the  way  they 
came  in  silence.  Crossing  the  creek,  whose 
turbid  waters  are  hurrying  on  as  if  they  had 
heard  of  what  is  in  the  gully  below  and  arc 
crowding  there  to  see,  by  one  impulse  they  both 
urge  their  unwilling  horses  to  the  brink  again, 
and  sit  gazing  uj)on  the  murdered  men  circling 
round  and  round  below.  They  gaze  upon  the 
ghastly  sight;  and  at  the  same  ])eriod,  if  not  at 
the  same  instant,  millions  throughout  the  South 
are  aware  of  men  assassinated  in  like  fashion, 
for  like  cause,  here  and  there  throughout  all  the 
Southern  States.  Millions?  All  men,  women, 
children  at  the  South  are  more  or  less  cogni- 
zant of,  and  are  thinking  upon,  like  tragedies ; 
beneath  whatever  outer  bearing,  thinking,  think- 
ing. 

The  solemn  pines  put  their  heads  together  far 
above  the  pool  with  incessant  whisj)erings  of 
horror,  parting  and  swaying  themselves  hither 
and  thither  if  so  be  they  may  cast  oft"  from  their 
branches  the  foul  birds  drawn  from  leagues  away 
to  the  spot.  The  waters  babble  garrulously  to 
each  other  as,  having  seen  and  borne  tenderly 
up  in  their  turn  the  mutilated  dead,  they  rush 
away  to  bear  the  tale  to  river,  and  so  to  the 
broad  sea.  And  over  all  bends  the  great  God 
so  patient,  knowing  that  events  arc  converging 
now  so  rapidly,  and  by  the  inherent  force  of  their 
own  nature,  to  their  appointed  end.  Yes,  thank 
God,  no  stone  falls,  no  jilanet  turns,  no  comet 
flies  with  motion  more  certain  than  that  by  which 
every  Judas  goes  "to  his  own  place." 

The  two  friends  are  miles  off  along  their  road 
before  the  silence  is  broken. 

"You  won't  object  to  camping  out  with  me 
to-night,  ^fr.  Arthur  ?''  says  the  lawyer,  at  last. 
"We've  done  it  together  before  now  on  our 
hunting  excursions.  I  know  a  place  up  the 
creek  where  I  camped  once  with  Paul  a  week 
while  he  was  getting  his  cabin  ready.  I  can 
not  enter  a  house  to-night — I  could  not  endure 
to  see  any  one.  And,  besides,  we've  enough 
left  of  our  lunch  for  supper  and  breakfast." 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


141 


The  niyht  lins  fnllen  bv  this  time,  but  the  sput 
is  not  far  off — a  secluiled  ami  grassy  knoll  midcr 
the  })ii)cs.  To  ilisnuniiit,  tctlior  tla-ir  horses  where 
they  can  graze,  build  a  lire,  and  arrange  tlieni- 
selves  before  it  upon  tlieir  saddle  blankets,  is  the 
work  of  a  few  minutes. 

"Thank  yon,  I  can  not,"  said  tlie  lawyer, 
when  his  comjiaiiion  pressed  him  to  share  in  the 
food  put  up  by  Mrs.  Sorel  in  lavish  abundance 
for  their  lunch.  "You  eat,  and  listen.  We 
may  not  meet  again  soon,  and  I've  inucli  to  say. 
First,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  I'aul. 

It  is  a  long  story,  as  Guy  IJrooks  tells  it,  that 
night  under  the  pines,  the  light  from  the  camp- 
fire  llickering  ujwn  his  broad  face  as  he  speaks, 
revealing  therein  a  new  expression  altogether. 
Mr.  Arthur  is  almost  suri)rised  at  the  calmness 
of  his  friend.  Guy  and  Paul  were  the  two  only 
children  of  a  Kentucky  jjlantcr.  The  lawyer 
lingered  long  npon  even  the  trivial  incidents  of 
their  boyish  attachment  to  each  other — like  a 
boy  again  himself  while  he  recalled  them.  The 
parents  had  died.  Carrying  out  a  long-cher- 
ished scheme,  the  brothers  had  sold  the  old 
place,  bringing  the  negroes  southward  to  their 
new  home.  "I  am  just  beginning  to  nnder- 
stand  Paul  in  reference  to  tliose  negroes,"  said 
the  lawyer.  "Just  before  leaving  Kentucky 
he  joined  the  church.  I  am  a  professor  too, 
as  you  know.  Not  as  Paul  was.  We  were 
very  different.  He  had  a  hundred  times  my 
depth.  I  don't  think  it  was  his  religion  only. 
Our  father  was  a  good  man,  but  our  mother  was 
an  extraordinary  woman  for  intelligence  and 
piety.  I  remember  her  as  if  I  saw  her  to-day, 
erect,  beautiful,  the  finest-looking  woman  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life.  For  years  before  her  death  she 
— through  her  I  suppose — my  father  also,  both 
were  uneasy  abont  the  negroes,  used  to  be  often 
speaking  with  us,  especially  w-ith  Paul,  who  w'as 
justly  the  favorite  with  them,  on  the  subject. 
Vaguely,  perhaps.  I  don't  know — never  mind. 
As  it  was,  Patil  turned  over  every  soul  of  them 
to  me.  He  said  very  little  to  me  on  the  subject. 
So  far  as  I  know  he  never  spoke  a  syllable  about 
slavery  to  a  human  being.  He  was  a  silent  man 
on  all  points.  He  had  a  queer  idea  that  he 
would  prefer  to  bo  independent,  to  work  with 
his  own  hands  for  his  living.  I  nsed  to  think 
iiim  a  kind  of  dumb  Daniel  Webster — superior 
to  me  in  every  respect.  I  used  to  tell  him  how 
wrong  it  was  to  bury  himself  in  the  woods.  He 
would  say,  '  I  don't  know,  Gny — I've  got  odd 
notions.  I'm  before  my  times,  or  behind  them. 
People  are  not  ripe  for  me,  or  I  am  not  ripe  for 
them  :  we  are  too  far  apart  somehow.'  It  seems 
to  me  now,"  continued  the  brother,  musingly, 
"  Paul  did  not  feel  jireparcd  to  bring  his  ideas 
to  bear  on  other  men,  or  despaired  of  succeed- 
ing with  them  if  he  did.  He  resolved  that  his 
opinions  .should,  at  any  rate,  be  a  rule  for  ///;«. 
I  think  he  had  a  hope,  too,  the  time  was  coming 


when  he  could  do  something ;  a  great  believer 
in  the  Future  Paul  was — a  dce)>,  serious,  joyful 
faith  in  what  is  to  be  among  us  all  right  here. 
And  so  he  lived  meanwhile  up  there  in  his 
cabin,  and  wcjvked  liard.  You  see,  after  Jiaying 
the  estate  debts,  nothing  was  left  us  but  the  ne- 
groes, and  he  would  neither  sell  them  nor  work 
them,  nor  take  from  me  one  cent  more  of  what 
I  got  from  tiieir  labor  than  he  could  help.  He 
hunted  a  little;  read,  especially  his  Bii»le : 
helped  his  neighbors,  and  the  like.  Yes,"  add- 
I  ed  the  lawyer,  suddenl_v,  "I  am  Paid's  heir,  as 
Kobbins  says,  and  I  intend  to  take  fidl  jiossession 
of  my  inheritance — all  of  it.  Never  mind  that 
now.  You  told  me  to-day  to  wait — Providence 
would  sliow  me  what  to  do.  You  were  right — 
Providence //«.«  sliown  me  my  path  at  last." 

Immediate  departure  from  Somerville,  enlist- 
ment in  the  Federal  army,  life-long  war  against 
every  foe  which  holds  the  South  in  bondage — 
the  lawyer  tells  his  friend  his  wiiole  plan. 

"And  your  j)roperty?"  begins  Mr.  Arthur. 

"  I  will  write  from  the  next  town  to  Ferguson. 
I  gave  him  a  power  of  attorney  months  ago  in 
case  of  accidents  ;  he  did  the  same  to  me  ;  as  for 
that,  we  did  not  know  what  might  turn  up.  I 
owe  no  man  a  cent,  except  yourself,  and  Fergu- 
son will  arrange  all  that.  Yon  will  not  be  de- 
pendent on  Mr.  Ellis  or  Mrs.  Warner  in  any 
sense,  I've  fixed  that,"  added  the  lawyer  with  a 
smile.  "When  they  go  to  work,  if  they  get 
time  to  do  it,  confiscating  my  jjroperty  they  will 
find  they  had  a  lawyer  to  deal  with,  even  if  he 
isn't  a  Yankee.  What  to  do  with  them  ?"  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  in  more  anxious  accents. 

"Do  with  whom?" 

"  I  do  believe  it  was  that  which  staggered 
Paul,"  continued  the  lawyer.  "You  can  not 
free  them  at  the  South.  You'd  have  to  sell  half 
of  tliem  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  other  half  to 
Liberia.  The  North  won't  have  thom.  Well, 
all  Egyjit  is  being  stirred  for  them  just  now. 
When  they  get  to  the  very  edge  of  the  Ked  Sea 
perhaj)s  the  waves  will  part  in  some  way  before 
them,"  he  added,  musingly. 

"  Halloo,  I  never  thought  of  it !"  he  sudden- 
ly exclaimed,  with  brightening  face,  "why  not  go 
with  me  ?" 

"No,"  adds  his  friend,  promptly;  "I  agree 
with  you,  your  path  is  ])lain.  IVIine  is  not.  At 
least  not  to  go  yet.  I  know  I  seem  doing  no- 
thing in  Somerville,  less  and  less  apparently  ev- 
ery day.  As  your  brother  said,  the  jjcojiIc  there 
and  I  are  too  far  apart.  I  am  worn  down  in 
struggle  with  evils  there,  mightier  than  my  puny 
hand  to  do  more  at  least  than  point  out.  But 
not  yet.  My  heart  is  not  ready  to  go ;  I  would 
feel  too  much  like  Jonah.  We  must  be  gov- 
erned by  our  conscience.  Yon  won't  thank  me, 
but  I  would  feel  almost  as  reluctant  to  go  with 
you  as  I  would  to  go  with  good  Mr.  Ellis  in  his 
way — it  is  right  for  you,  but  nut  for  me." 


142 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


It  is  long  after  midnight,  the  camp-fire  often 
replenished  before  they  ceased  from  their  earnest 
conversation.  Then,  with  a  fervent  prayer  for 
divine  aid,  they  fell  asleep,  each  on  his  blanket, 
their  feet  to  the  fire,  under  the  pines  making 
mournful  lullaby  over  them.  But  before  doing 
so,  the  lawyer  had  scooped  out  a  hole  into  which 
he  drew  the  coals,  lest  they  siiould  attract  any 
one  to  the  spot  while  they  slept — "To  say  no- 
thing about  your  life" — he  said  as  he  did  it — 
"my  life  is  very  precious  to  me  from  this  hour. 
I  have  so  much  I  want  to  do." 

When  Mr.  Arthur  awakes  next  morning  after 
such  a  sleep  as  people  enjoy  only  under  the  free 
air  of  heaven,  he  finds  his  friend  cooking  tlie 
remains  of  their  supper  at  the  fire. 

"  Up,  man :  it's  late  breakfast !  I  could  hardly 
wait  till  you  woke.  I'm  going  to  eat  such  a  meal 
as  people  never  make  except  in  camp !"  he  says ; 
and  the  minister  joins  him  in  the  repast,  won- 
dering in  the  change  which  has  taken  place  in 
the  Kentuckian's  manner. 

Yes,  the  gloom,  hesitation,  doubt  which  has 
darkened  over  that  broad  face  since  Secession, 
darkening  deeper  and  deeper  as  the  slow  days 
roll  by,  is  gone  as  by  a  charm.  There  is  trace 
of  the  sharp  distress  of  the  night  before,  but  dis- 
tress out  of  which  has  broken  a  new  light.  He 
moves,  speaks,  laughs  like  the  frank-visagcd, 
plain-spoken,  warm-hearted  Kentuckian  he  was 
that  day,  years  ago,  when  the  young  jiarson 
stepped,  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  Somerville, 
out  of  the  stage  and,  as  it  were,  into  his  very 
arms.  A  less  care-worn  man  you  would  not  wish 
to  see  and  shake  hands  with.  He  is  almost  jo- 
vial now,  in  sudden  reaction  from  long  uncer- 
tainty and  indecision.  Out  of  the  brambles  at 
last,  a  broad,  clear  path  stretches  away  straight 
before  him. 

"  And  you  hold  to  your  decision  ?"'  he  says  at 
last  to  his  friend,  as  a  voyager,  flushed  and  ea- 
ger for  his  journey  to  some  happy  port,  might 
speak  to  one  who  lingers  behind  on  a  deserted 
shore. 

"Yes,  my  mind  is  clear  as  well  as  yours." 
Mr.  Arthur  endeavors  to  rally  and  to  speak  as 
stoutly  as  he  can,  cheerfully  even.  "  Somerville 
is  my  post  of  duty  still.  For  me  to  leave  would 
be  desertion  ;  my  flag,  you  know,  yet  flies  there, 
as  well  as  whither  you  are  going.  I  stay  bound 
in  the  spirit  in  Jerusalem,  not  knowing  the  things 
that  befall  tne  there." 

"God  forbid  the  rest  of  the  passage  should 
come  true  of  you!"  adds  his  friend,  hastily,  and 
with  blank  face. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that ;  I  only  stand  to 
my  post.  As  to  the  rest,  why,  God's  will  be 
done !" 

"Oh,  well,  I  dare  say,  only,  Mr.  Edward  Ar- 
thur, don't  be  too  sure  that  your  duty  is  all  that 
keeps  you  in  Somerville.  Unless  I  tremendous- 
ly mistake,  there  is  a  certain  something  vastly 


more  attractive.  Never  color  so,  man,"  he  adds, 
heartily ;  "all  our  motives  are  terribly  mixed  up. 
And  I  tell  you.  Sir,  you  are  right.  Leave  my 
mother  out  of  (piestion,  and  the  one  you  think 
of  is  the  finest  specimen  of  a  lady,  that  is,  will 
be,  she  is  so  young.     Go  ahead,  man,  go  ahead  !" 

"  I'm  afraid,'"  begins  his  companion,  gravely, 
"there  will  have  to  be  a  very  great  change  be- 
fore—" 

"Change!"  breaks  in  the  lawyer,  who  is  in 
highest  spirits;  "and  there  will  be  a  great,  a 
glorious,  a  most  magnificent  change.  Not  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  perhaps ; 
but  we  sludl  all  be  changed — I  don't  mean  any 
irreverence  —  even  in  Somerville.  I  have  all 
Paul's  faith — not  the  Apostle,  /h^  Paul's — in  the 
Future,  only  I  stand  nearer  to  it,  understand  it 
perhajjs  better." 

It  is  an  hour  yet  before  they  part.  But  when 
they  do  Mr.  Arthur  rides  back  alone  toward 
Somerville  at  last,  not  as  sad  a  man  as  when  the 
two  friends  passed  over  the  same  road  the  day 
before.  Thank  God  for  our  memory  of  the  Past ! 
thanks  be  to  Him  for  our  enjoyment  of  the  Pres- 
ent !  but  threefold  thanks  be  to  Him,  above  all, 
for — the  Future ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  O  HAPPT  day ! — O  glorious  and  blessed  day  I 
— O  day  for  us  to  celebrate  with  joyful  hearts  as 
long  as  we  live  here  and  throughout  all  eternity! 
No  room  for  hesitation  now.  Many  a  time  you 
have  laughed  at  your  humble  speaker — said, 
'  Don't  be  too  fast.  Brother  Barker' — hah !  was 
I  not  right  ?  From  the  first  whisper  of  the  great 
news  I  believed  it  all,  eVery  syllable.  Shame 
upon  you  who  held  back,  who  wanted  confirma- 
tion, as  you  call  it.  There  was  your  sin.  Men 
standing  high  like  among  us,  too — like  the  lord 
on  whose  hand  the  king  leaned  that  our  text — 
Second  Kings,  seventh — speaks  about.  You 
wouldn't  believe  me  any  more  than  they  would 
the  lepers  when  they  came  to  tell  of  the  invad- 
ing armv  fled.  Like  them,  it  is  faith  vou  need. 
You  may  despise  me,  but  you  can't  take  from 
me  my  faith.  You  hesitated.  You  said,  Louis- 
ville taken  ?  May  be  so.  Cincinnati  captured  ? 
Perhaps ;  only  there's  a  good  many  people  living 
in  that  town,  railways  to  bring  more,  and  the 
like.  But  Washington  captured?  you  asked. 
Don't  know  about  that.  You  all  believed  about 
the  second  battle  of  Manassas  which  went  be- 
fore all  this  glorious  success ;  you  hemmed  and 
hawed  about  the  rest.  Only  let  me  have  the 
humble  satisfaction  of  calling  you  all  to  witness 
this  day  that  I  believed  it  all  from  the  first — sec- 
ond victory  of  Manassas,  capture  simultaneously 
thereafter  of  Louisville,  Cincinnati,  Washington 
— yes,  and  of  Philadelphia  and  New  York  City, 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ua 


too,  which  will  soon  follow.  Is  it  because  I  be- 
lieve in  our  glorious  Davis  and  Li'C  luul  Stone- 
wall Jackson  and  our  gallant  army?  Not  one 
bit  of  it.  What  I  believe  in  is  God.  From  the 
first  I  have  said,  Brethren,  here's  the  only  ground 
to  stand  on.  This  whole  war  is  a  war  fur  slav- 
ery. God  teaches  plainly  in  His  Word  slavery 
is  a  divine  ordinance.  In  all  the  world  we  are 
His  peculiar  people,  being  the  only  people  on 
earth  who  believe  in  the  institution  as  such. 
An  infidel  North,  an  infidel  world  against  us, 
but  God  for  us!  You  have  trenibleil  and  said, 
'  Oh,  the  North  is  so  populous,  so  rich,  so  unit- 
ed, so  determined — the  North  is  so  this,  and  the 
North  is  so  that.'  All  I  said  is  this,  Very  good, 
if  the  North  is  all  this  and  a  niillionfold  more 
so,  what  do  I  care?  The  God  of  this  Bible  is 
for  us.  But  the  whole  civilized  world  is  against 
us.  Who  cares  if  all  the  devils  in  hell  were 
too?  If  God  be  for  us, who  can  be  against  us? 
I,  all  the  brethren  in  our  denomination,  almost 
every  preacher  of  every  denomination  has  said 
the  same  here  at  the  South — if  you  would  only 
believe  it  when  you  hear  it.  There  in  that 
ninth  verse — 'We  do  not  well:  this  day  is  a 
day  of  good  tidings;  and  we  hold  our  peace;' 
what  the  lepers  said  to  one  another.  As  I  said 
in  taking  that  text,  this  being  a  day  of  good  tid- 
ings, I  don't  intend  to  hold  iiit/  peace !" 

And  Brother  Barker  did  not.  It  was  on  Sun- 
day morning  in  his  pulpit  in  Somerville,  to  his 
church  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity.  For  a 
week  the  news  he  specifics  lias  been  pouring  jn, 
increasing  in  magnitude  and  being  more  fully 
confirmed  every  mail.  Some  rejoicings  had  tak- 
en place  from  its  very  first  arrival ;  but  last  night 
the  news  was  so  entirely  confirmed  that  even  the 
most  prudent  Secessionist  in  Somerville  aban- 
doned any  doubt  as  to  its  authenticity.  Hur- 
rahing until  hopeless  hoarseness,  bonfires,  fire- 
arms from  cannon  down  to  the  feeblest  pistol, 
bells  from  the  big  bell  of  the  Brick  Church  down 
to  the  weakest  tea-bell  in  the  hands  of  baby  as- 
sisted to  hold  and  shake  it !  Shaking  of  hands 
till  exhaustion.  Somerville  has  rejoiced  before, 
but  Somerville  outdoes  Somerville  this  time. 
Very  properly,  the  news  being  by  far  the  most 
glorious  ever  received. 

Around  Mr.  Ferguson,  sitting  grimly  aloft  in 
his  room,  Somer\'ille  sweeps  and  roars  like  a 
maelstrom,  all  the  county  around  sucked  into 
the  vortex  of  rejoicing.  Like  a  hunted  lion  in 
his  brushy  lair,  tlic  Scotchman  broods  in  defiant 
scorn  behind  his  grizzly  beard.  His  only  care  is 
to  secure  each  and  every  dispatch  or  other  print- 
ed fragment  in  relation  to  the  news  as  it  ap- 
pears, and  before  it  can  be  whelmed  in  the  tor- 
rent of  later  and  fresher  tidings,  give  it  a  per- 
manent place  in  his  Scrap-book  according  to  its 
exact  date  and  sequence.  It  is  a  very  Daniel 
Lambert  of  volumes.  No  easy  matter  to  handle 
it  now,  as  it  lies  on  a  table  in  the  Scotchman's 


room  devoted  expressly  to  it ;  and  it  is  growing 
rajiidiy  in  these  days.  Mr.  Ferguson  has  no 
children,  not  even  a  cat,  and  this  is  his  pet. 
Mr.  Ferguson  has  no  visitors  beyond  Dr.  War- 
ner, Guy  Brooks  before  he  left,  Mr.  Arthur,  and 
one  or  two  more;  his  business  is  destroyed  for 
the  present;  the  collection  is  at  once  his  only 
business  and  recreation. 

Yes,  on  this  Sunday  morning,  while  Mr.  Ar- 
thur is  preaching  the  old,  obsolete,  utterly  unin- 
teresting Gos))el  to  (|uite  a  small  congregation, 
both  he  and  they  none  the  brighter  from  a  night 
from  which  sleep  had  been  routed  by  the  bells — 
at  the  same  hour  Brother  Barker  actually  out- 
does and  altogether  ecli])scs  the  Brother  Barker 
of  any  previous  occasion.  No  wonder.  Is  not 
the  North  now  finally  defeated?  The  war  is 
over,  as  Brother  Barker  very  justly  reasons  in  his 
sermon.  Washington  being  captured,  there  is 
no  longer  any  Northern  Government  existing  to 
fight.  With  tears  in  his  eyes  he  confesses  in 
sermons,  and  in  conversation  which  fills  up  all 
the  space  between  sermons,  to  a  feeling  even  of 
deepest  piiy  for  this  misguided  and  infidel  but 
now  utterly  wrecked  and  ruined  people.  As  he 
refers  to  it  in  the  jjuljiit  he  has  broken  down, 
has  turned  himself  to  one  side  to  wipe  his  eyes 
and  blow  his  nose.  Friends  must  excuse  him, 
he  was  born  among  that  infatuated  jjcople  who 
have  so  madly  rushed  upon  their  ruin  ;  and  so, 
with  a  hasty  swallow  or  two  and  a  twenty-fiftb 
sip  at  the  tumbler  of  water  beside  him,  he  tucks 
his  wet  handkerchief  under  the  edge  of  his  Bi- 
ble. 

"  I  know  your  magnanimous  souls,  dear 
friends.  Even  in  this  hour  of  your  final  tri- 
umph you  pity  your  fallen  foe.  In  view  of  their 
awful  overthrow  we  all  feel  to  sorrow  over  them. 
It  was  an  inscrutable  Providence  that  caused 
me,  no  will  of  my  own,  to  be  born  there.  You 
will  excuse — you  know  how  wicked  Jerusalem 
was,  yet  you  know  who  wept  over  it!" 

Pardon  the  hand  which  records  this,  but  shall 
not  that  time  be  set  down  as  it  actually  was  ? 

"I  have  heard  from  my  earliest  infancy  many, 
very  many  sermons ;  in  fact,  in  the  earlier  por- 
tion of  my  existence  I  never  heard  any  thing 
else,"  Captain  Simmons  remarks  to  a  group  of 
friends  in  the  grocery  next  day,  "but  I  never 
heard  a  more  brilliant  discourse — a  more  aflfect- 
ing  one,  parts  of  it,  in  my  life.  My  nature  re- 
volts from  a  Yankee,  even  when  a  Secessionist, 
yet  I  must  do  Parson  Barker  justice  to  say  that." 

"Bear  in  your  minds,  friends,  this  one  tiling," 
reiterates  Brother  Barker,  speaking  the  almost 
unanimous  sentiment  of  his  denomination  South 
at  that  hour.  "The  success  of  our  glorious  Con- 
federacy, the  destruction  of  the  old  United  States 
and  the  infidel  North  is  the  doing  of  the  Al- 
mighty. And  why?  Because  he  could  not  be 
a  just  God  and  act  otherwise." 

And  it  is  a  little  singular  that  the  sovereignty 


lU 


INSIDE.— A  OIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


of  God  is  the  theme,  far  from  the  first  or  the  last 
time,  of  Mr.  Arthur's  sermon  at  the  same  hour, 
the  grand  doctrine,  not  the  same  inferences. 
Though  he,  too,  is  dreading  this  morning  in  se- 
cret lest  the  will  of  Heaven  may  be  at  last  as 
Brother  Barker  interprets  it — dreading  it,  re- 
buking himself  for  any  pain  at  what  Heaven  de- 
crees, yet  oh  that  acute,  bitter,  sickening  dread! 
"Not  my  will  but  Thine  I"  he  repeats  a  thou- 
sand times,  but.  oh  that  it  would  throb  in  his  very 
heart  as  well  as  on  his  tongue ! 

"You  observe  my  condition,  friends,"  says 
Brother  Barker,  half  an  hour  later  in  his  dis- 
course. "JNIy  bleeding  lungs  will  not  j)ermit — 
I  must  close.  Only  I  find  on  the  desk  a  note 
making  request  that  I  will  explain  a  little  Scrip- 
ture before  we  part.  With  pleasure  will  I  do  so." 
And  that  thin,  sallow-faced  fellow-creature — his 
lank  hair  combed  back  off  his  forehead  and 
tucked  behind  his  ears,  the  centre  and  soul  for 
near  two  hours  now  of  tiiat  crowded  church, 
enjoys,  as  he  leans  forward  over  his  cushion, 
note  in  hand,  a  degree  of  self-satisfaction  intense 
beyond  the  ordinary  allotment  of  the  rest  of  us. 

"I  find  here,"  he  says,  "some  questions  to 
answer.  I  have  had  no  time  to  examine  them. 
I  trust  my  general  knowledge  of  this  blessed 
Book  is  sufficient.  '  First,  What  does  prophecy 
mean  by  the  stars  of  heaven  ?'  An  easy  ques- 
tion to  answer,"  with  a  smile  :  "  as  I  have  often 
told  you,  by  the  stars  of  heaven  is  meant  in 
prophecy  governments,  particularly  the  States 
which  once  composed  this  Union.  '  Second, 
Has  prophecy  a  meaning  when  it  speaks  of  a 
third  )iart  of  the  stars  of  heaven  ?'  Whoever 
wrote  this  note  could  hardly  iiave  attended  the 
preaching  of  your  most  humble.  I've  explained 
it  often  in  the  Sunday-school.  The  smallest 
child  there  could  tell  you  the  reference  is  to  our 
Confederate  States:  thirty-three  States  at  the 
time  of  Secession  ;  eleven  seceded  States.  Yes, 
if  there  be,  as  I've  often  explained,  any  thing 
certain,  positively  certain,  in  Scripture,"  says 
the  preacher,  slowly,  "it  is  tliat  by  a  tliird  part 
of  the  stars  of  heaven  is  meant  these  Confeder- 
ate States  of  America.  Very  good.  '  Third, 
When  Scripture  speaks  of  the  great  Red  Dragon 
what  is  meant?'  Really,  friends,"  says  Brother 
Barker,  smiling,  "these  questions  are  too  sim- 
ple ;  I'm  wasting  your  time.  By  the  Dragon  is 
meant,  of  course,  the  Devil,  the  Adversary,  Sa- 
tan. He  is  called  great  because  of  his  terrible 
power  over  men.  He  is  called  red — the  great 
red  Dragon — to  show  that  he  burns  like  fire  with 
fury,  and  because  he  accomplishes  his  dreadful 
purposes  against  men  very  often  by  bloodshed 
and  war.  '  A  last  question  :  Please  say,  then, 
what  is  meant  by  Revelation,  twelfth  chapter, 
third  and  fourth  verses.'  Revelation,  twelfth, 
third— twelfth,  third."  Brother  Barker  has  his 
long  forefinger  on  the  place  in  an  instant,  and 
reads,  without  a  pause;  "  'And  there  appeared 


liUUTUEB  IIABKER  IN   A  TliW. 

another  wonder  in  heaven ;  and  behold  a  great 
red  dragon,  having  seven  heads  and  ten  horns, 
and  se^'en  crowns  upon  his  heads.'  All  this 
emblematic,"  the  preacher  pauses  here  to  say, 
"  of  the  devil's  terrible  power  over  men  ;  but  let 
us  go  on :  '  And  his  tail  drew  the  third  part  of 
the  stars  of  heaven,  and  did  cast  them  to  the 
earth—' " 

Total  silence  in  the  vast  audience.  Then  a 
perfectly  distinct  "by  George  I"  from  the  direc- 
tion in  which  Bob  Withers  is  seated,  with  a  tit- 
tering among  the  younger  portion,  first  at  Broth- 
er Barker's  aspect  of  sudden  and  total  discom- 
fiture, swelling  as  the  meaning  of  this  most  un- 
expected Scripture  breaks  upon  them  according 
to  the  explanation  yet  ringing  in  their  ears  I 
The  whole  congregation  at  last  catch  the  joke, 
and  join  in.  The  thing  comes  u])on  it  so  sud- 
denly. The  reaction  of  feeling  also.  The  sym- 
pathy of  a  crowd  of  laughers  likewise. 

Brother  Barker  has  closed  the  Bible,  very  sal- 
low indeed,  and  leans  himself  over  the  desk  with 
deprecating  hand  for  some  time  before  he  can 
make  himself  heard. 

"Brethren,"  he  begins,  at  last,  in  his  most 
solemn  tones,  "an  enemy  hath  done — "  But 
the  congregation  has  at  this  instant  a  fresh 
sense  of  the  joke,  and  go  off  together  in  another 
peal  of  laughter,  as  audiences  sometimes  will, 
as  much  at  Brother  Barker  himself,  the  victim, 
as  at  the  sudden  Scripture. 

"An  enemy,  an  enemy  hath  done  this,"  he 
says  at  last.     "  Once  before,  in  my  humble  labors 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


145 


in  the  cause  of  the  South  and  the  God  of  the 
South,  an  enemy  attempted  to  wrest  Scripture 
at  church  in  somewhat  the  same  way.  I  fore- 
saw then  and  tuld  friemls  he  wrested  Scripture 
to  his  own  destruction.  You  have  all  heard  the 
fate,  the  just  fate,  of  the  traitor  who  did  it — the 
double  vengeance  of  God  on  him  as  a  traitor 
both  to  his  country  and  to  his  Bible.  Like 
Uzzah,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  Ark  of  the  Lord, 
and,  like  Uzzah,  he  perished  for  his  sin." 

But  there  is  laughter  breaking  forth  yet,  here 
and  there,  among  the  most  thoughtless.  Brother 
Barker  grows  more  livid,  his  hair  seems  blacker, 
his.  eyes  like  those  of  a  serjient,  his  head  pro- 
jected nearer  his  audience,  his  long  arm  shak- 
ing a  prophetic  finger  at  them. 

"I  have  spoken  of  the  fate  of  that  miserable 
man's  body,"  he  adds;  "but  what  of  his  im- 
mortal soul  gone  to  the  Judgment  ?  I  tell  you, 
friends,  disloyalty  to  the  Confederacy  is  a  sin 
against  God,  a  great  sin.  He  will  damn  a  man 
for  that  as  well  as  for  any  other  sin.  Tiie  Powers 
that  be  are  ordained  of  God ;  and  it  goes  right 
on  to  add :  Whosoever  therefore  resisteth  the 
power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God,  and  they 
that  resist  shall  receive  to  themselves — Damna- 
tion!" 

But  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  force  and 
zest  with  which  the  word  passes  the  speaker's 
lips. 

"As  to  the  person  who  wrote  this" — the 
preacher  holds  out  the  offensive  note  at  arm's- 
length — "  let  him  look  out  for  himself.  He  may 
be  here  this  instant.  I  tell  you,  Sir,  whoever 
you  are,  we  have  your  handwrite.  You  can  not 
escape.  Has  it  come  to  this!"  wails  Brother 
Barker.  "  Is  it  possible  there  can  exist  among 
us  men  so  desperate !  Men  who  can  yet  cling 
to  our  vile  foe,  cling  to  it  in  the  very  hour  that 
Heaven  has  finally  crushed  it  beneath  its  awful 
wrath!  From  whom,"  continues  the  speaker, 
after  a  pause,  and  with  a  lower  leaning  of  his 
body  to  his  audience,  as  he  asks  the  question,  in 
confidence,  of  them,  "did  the  writer  of  this  get 
his  Bible  passages  ?  The  Concordance  by  which 
this  note  was  got  up  belongs,"  shaking  the  pa- 
per almost  to  pieces  in  his  extended  hand  as  he 
speaks,  "to  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  now  living, 
this  moment  preaching,  preaching  without  one 
prayer  for  the  Confederacy,  in  Somerville!" 
And  the  speaker's  silence  is  more  eloquent  of 
meaning  than  any  words  could  be.  Not  a  grown 
person  but  says  to  himself — Mrs.  Warner  is  not 
the  only  lady  who  whispers  it  to  her  neighbor 
then — "Parson  Arthur." 

"I  will  say  this  much  more" — the  preacher 
has  worked  himself  by  this  time  into  a  frenzy, 
the  projection  of  his  lean  body,  long  arms,  small 
head  over  the  desk,  with  the  hiss  of  his  words 
resembling  him,  even  to  Tim  Lamum,  who  sits 
on  one  side  of  the  pulpit,  crowded  there  by  the 
stress  of  the  occasion,  and  has  the  preacher 
K 


in  profile,  to  an  enraged  serpent — "this  mo- 
ment our  brave  boys,  your  own  husbands,  broth- 
ers, sons,  lovers,  friends  are  far  away  there, 
enduring  hunger,  cold,  intense  toil  for  their 
country,  lying  in  their  heart's  gore,  being  this 
very  instant  butchered  by  a  fiendish  foe;  pour- 
ing out  from  every  vein  their  rich,  warm.  South, 
em  blood !  Apd  for  what  ?  Doing  the  Al- 
mighty's work  on  their  and  His  hellish  foes. 
Yes,  jiursuing  and  slaughtering  and  burning 
the  Louisvilles  and  Cincinnatis  and  Washing- 
tons  of  your  defeated  tyrants  as  those  other 
slaveholders  and  peculiar  pcojjle  of  God  did  the 
Canaanites!  Our  dear  boys  are  this  moment 
slaying  such  of  our  cruel  foes  as  come  in  their 
reach  ;  and  here  are  we  at  home,  the  same  foes 
right  among  us,  people  sitting  deliberately,  in- 
sultingly down  to  write  sucli  a  paper  as  tliis" — a 
deadly  shake  to  it — "while  we  are  exulting  in 
our  great  victories.  Men  right  at  our  firesides ! 
Adders  doubting  the  news  on  the  very  hearth- 
stones which  warm  them.  I  tell  you  what, 
friends  and  fellow-citizens" — and  the  preacher, 
lower  down  over  his  desk,  two-thirds  of  his  body 
toward  his  breathless  congregation,  suits  eyes 
and  lips,  long  arms  and  convulsive  hands,  face 
livid  and  teeth  set,  to  the  words — "you  should 
this  hour  seize  the  wretches  and  crush  them  like 
vipers  under  your  feet!"  and  the  stamp  with 
which  he  dashes  his  heel  upon  their  shattered 
heads  thrills  every  heart. 

But  not  without  the  conscious  uprising  in  his 
own  bosom,  ay,  and  in  the  bosom  of  eveiy 
Christian  man  there,  of  a  something  adverse  to 
all  this,  not  without  that,  no  not  without  that ! 

Only  human  nature,  and  that  nature  yours, 
dear  reader,  as  well  as  his.  Our  common  na- 
ture ;  in  this  instance  dizzied  in  and  by  the 
raging  of  such  a  whirlwind  as  never  befiills  twice 
a  century.  Let  Him  decide  the  degree  of  guilt 
who  only  can. 

Keaction,  however,  being  thus  established. 
Brother  Barker  draws  himself  back  again  into 
the  pulpit  and  takes  up  his  well-worn  hymn-book. 

"Sixty-eight  Psalm,  first  part,  long  measure: 

'Let  God  arise  in  all  liia  might 
And  put  the  troops  of  hell  to  flight.' 

Brethren,  please  sing." 

Yes,  the  case  of  JNIr.  Arthur  grows  a  more 
painful  one  every  day.  Many  of  his  members, 
once  his  warmest  friends,  cease  to  attend  church ; 
even  those  whom  he  knows  most  cordially  to  ap- 
])rove  his  course  are  very  rare  indeed  in  their 
attendance  there,  exceedingly  shy  of  being  seen 
conversing  with  him,  even  for  an  instant,  on  the 
street.  So  many  whom  he  once  knew  pass  him 
on  the  streets,  refusing  to  speak  to  him,  that  he 
now  takes  the  initiative  in  that  matter,  and  nev- 
er himself  first  salutes  any  one  of  whose  friendly 
feeling  he  entertains  the  least  doubt.  The  very 
children  are,  in  more  instances  than  one,  prompt- 


UQ 


INSIDE.— A  CHROXICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"YOU   BLACK-HEARTED  ABOLITIONIST  I" 


ed  to  call  after  him  as  he  passes  along.  The 
week  after  Brother  Barker's  sermon  Mrs.  War- 
ner's little  son  salutes  him  as  "  A  black-hearted 
Abolitionist."  It  is  on  record  that  the  same 
child  receives,  for  the  first  time  in  many  months, 


an  exceedingly  severe  chastisement  from  Dr. 
Warner,  followed  by  a  much  more  severe  scourg- 
ing of  the  Doctor  himself  by  the  tongue  of  his 
wife ;  but  who  dare  raise  the  sacred  veil  of  their 
family  privacy  to  explain  matters  ? 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


IVt 


In  fact,  Mr.  Arthur's  apin-ehcnsion  of  the  ex- 
act standing  of  a  leper  in  Hebrew  society  is 
clearer  than  it  ever  was  before,  with  all  his  read- 
ing. But  let  only  truth  be  told ;  with  all  his 
bitter  unpopularity  in  the  community  he  enjoys 
a  sweeter,  more  solid  peace  than  ever  before. 

"It  reminds  me  of  the  story  of  the  prisoner 
whoso  dungeon  was  curiously  constructed  to 
contract  around  him  every  day,"  he  says  to  Mr. 
Ferguson,  who  h:is  just  read  aloud  from  his 
portly  scrap-book  a  furious  onslaught  ni)on  "the 
miscreant  ministers  yet  lingering  among  us  who 
refuse  to  pray  for  the  Confederacy,"  from  the 
lost  Somerville  Star. 

"They  do  their  utmost  to  drive  you  away. 
Only  go,  and  they  will  publish  you  as  having 
deserted  to  the  Federals,  being  n  hypocrite  and 
a  s]>y  all  the  time  you  were  here,"  added  the 
Scotchman,  upon  whom  quite  a  change  has 
passed,  by-the-by.  Rough,  cross,  an  old  bach- 
elor, and  a  tough  Scot,  since  Guy  Brooks  has 
gone — '•  fled  in  a  base  and  cowardly  manner  to 
our  dastardly  foes,"  as  the  Star  had  it — Mr. 
Ferguson,  whose  regard  for  Mr.  Arthur  has, 
since  Secession,  steadily  increased,  is  now,  to 
liim  at  least,  more  gentle  than  he  was  ever  known 
to  be  to  man  before.  There  is  the  spirit  of  John 
Knox  in  Mr.  Arthur  which  he  can  not  resist. 

"Yes,  if  you  were  to  go  )'ou  would  leave  an 
odor  behind  you  proving  you  to  have  been  all 
along  the  vilest  of  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing, 
just  as  the  smell  of  brimstone  proves  a  departed 
visitant  to  have  been  the  devil."  So  he  com- 
forts his  friend. 

Heretofore  he  scarcely  ever  visited  any  one. 
The  truth  is,  he  was  afraid  to  leave  his  collec- 
tion. Now  he  lugs  and  crowds  that  ponderous 
volume  into  the  iron  safe  in  which  he  keeps  his 
land-titles  and  money,  and  frequently  visits  Mr. 
Arthur  in  the  study  of  the  latter.  If  busy  when 
his  friend  enters  the  minister  merely  returns  the 
dry  Good-morning,  and  waves  the  Scotchman 
to  a  chair  till  he  gets  through.  Often  Mr.  Fer- 
guson mounts  his  horse,  a  scrubby,  obstinate 
hack,  the  very  counterpart  of  his  owner,  and 
visits  his  friend  out  at  Mrs.  Sorel's.  He  has 
even  been  known  to  pat  Robby,  when  out  there, 
on  the  head — the  first  time  he  has  touched  a 
child  for  many,  many  years.  True,  the  conver- 
sation is  upon  the  one  topic  until  Mr.  Arthur 
wearies  of  it,  yet  he  experiences  a  pleasure  in 
having  his  grim  and  taciturn  friend  with  him. 
It  is  somehow  like  the  having  a  rocky  barrier 
for  the  time  between  him  and  the  roar  and  dash 
of  the  ocean — for,  very  broad,  deep,  dark,  and 
clamorous  is  the  phase  of  Secession  just  now. 

"I  know  dozens  of  cases  in  which  they  have 
made  preachers  take  the  oath  even  though  they 
furloughed  them  to  preach ;  resign  this  morn- 
ing, and  before  night  Simmons  and  Tim  Lam- 
um  will  be  after  you,"  says  Mr.  Ferguson,  per- 
petually. 


j      "None  of  the  interest  in  religious  matters 
'  among  even  the  best  of  our  people,  which  I  count- 
ed on  to  make  up  for  other  things,"  moans  Mr. 
Arthur.      "The  Union  men  flying   the  coun- 
I  try  or  giving  up  all  heart,  despairing  of  the  pur- 
I  pose  or  the  power  of  the  General  Government. 
.  So  many  who  abhorred  Secession  have  gone  into 
it  from  a  deeper  hatred  still  of  Abolition.     But 
oh,  this  spiritual  apathy  !" 

"Quite  a  contrast  to  the  fervent  praying, 
preaching,  singing,  crowding,  at  that  fellow  Bark- 
er's Sunday  services  and  weekly  prayer-meet- 
ings!" says  his  friend.  "But  the  inspiration 
of  all  that  is  purely  the  Confederacy,  It  lives 
with  it,  will  die  with  it." 

"They  ignore,  for  the  present,  every  Gospel 
doctrine,  so  far  as  urging  it  is  concerned,  1  fear," 
replies  Mr.  Arthur.  "God  is  feared  principally 
as  the  One  who  may  help  the  Federals ;  believed 
in,  and  invoked,  and  clung  to,  mainly  as  the  One 
who  must  and  shall  help  the  Confederates.  It 
does  seem  as  if  their  chief  aft'ection  for  the  very 
Saviour  now  is,  because  he  sanctioned,  or,  at 
least,  did  not  expressly  condemn,  slavery.  At 
heart  the  truly  pious  are  better  than  all  this, 
but  this  is  the  outer  seeming.  And  I,  perhaps, 
am  as  fanatical — only  the  other  way." 

"  The  Almighty,"  puts  in  the  Scotchman,  rev- 
erently, "  is  simply  witholding  his  gracious  Spirit 
for  the  present,  leaving  men,  for  the  time,  to 
their  own  ways.  There  is  now  a  lull  in  that 
Divine  wind  which  bloweth  as  it  listeth." 

"And,  the  analogy  of  Nature,  will  it  prove 
true  here?"  saj-s  the  minister,  eagerly,  "the 
strong  blowing  which  seamen  know  always  to 
follow  a  calm." 

"  When  His  other  instrumentalities  have  got 
slavery  out  of  the  way.  Even  that  man  Barker 
has  some  blind  idea  toward  the  truth.  Before 
this  last  ridiculous  news,  they  tell  me,  he  had  a 
vast  deal  to  say  about  some  Jonah  or  other  be- 
ing under  deck  of  the  Ship  of  State — some  wedge 
of  gold  and  Babylonish  garment  being  hidden 
somewhere  in  camp  which  prevented  success." 

"I  fear  he  refers  to  the  Union  men  still  left 
unhung  in  the  land — not  to  the  institution  ;  but 
who  can  tell  ?  How  often  I  wish  I  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  some  men's  hearts  !  Alas,  I  do  not 
even  know  my  own!"  says  Mr.  Arthur.  "I 
don't  want  to  speak  of  myself;  but  I  do  feel  as 
if  I  was  actually  in  jail — my  feet  in  the  stocks." 
"  And  midnight  upon  you  ;  then  do  as  Paul 
and  Silas  did,  in  like  case :  pray  and  sing  praises 
to  God.  The  earthquake  will  come  in  due  time," 
is  the  consolation  of  the  Scotchman. 

"But  so  many  really  good  men  have  gone 
into  this  thing — men  who  hated  it  at  first  as 
much  as  myself]  Some  from  the  influence  of 
others,  especially  their  wives  or  sons ;  some  be- 
cause money  is  to  be  made  in  it  ,•  some  from  de- 
spair of  the  success  of  the  Federal  Government ; 
some  because  they  arc  led  to  regard  Heaven  as 


148 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


being  at  last,  by  its  favor,  on  the  side  of  the 
South.  What  pains  me  most  is,  that  ministers, 
ministers  of  our  own  denomination — men  older, 
wiser,  more  devoted  than  I — men  superior  to  me 
in  every  sense,  should  be  so  thoroughly  persuad- 
ed and  zealous  for  the  Confederacy."  And  Mr. 
Arthur's  head  as  he  walks  his  study,  wherein 
this  conversation  takes  place,  sinks  upon  his 
bosom  in  deep  and  ]>ainful  thought. 

The  Scotchman  sits  at  the  table,  apparently 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  Ridgeley's  "  Body 
of  Divinity"  in  search  of  something.  Really  he 
is  far  away  in  Scotland,  standing  beside  a  grave 
wherein  he  saw  laid,  years  on  years  ago,  a  fair 
young  form,  whose  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  locks 
are  parts  of  his  memory  forever.  The  plumed 
Hamlet,  the  white-bearded  Lear,  the  swarthy 
Othello  you  see  upon  the  stage  are  not  the  only 
heroes  of  drama.  This  grizzly  old  Scot  was  not 
driven  apart  from  men  and  so  deep  within  him- 
self, more  a  hermit  than  if  fled  to  desert  and 
cave,  without  his  tragedy  too. 

What  divine  finger  touches  his  heart  this  morn- 
ing ?  Astonished  that  he  had  never  thought  of 
it  before,  a  new  purpose,  as  his  eye  rests  upon 
his  friend,  suddenly  blossoms  upon  him,  like  the 
almond  bud  upon  Aaron's  dead  rod.  A  new 
purpose !  And  like  the  arrival  of  the  time  for 
the  putting  forth  of  buds,  it  brings  a  spring  and 
a  joy  with  it  even  to  the  wintry  old  Scot.  A 
purpose,  and  a  substantial  one,  too,  as  we  shall 
yet  see. 

It  strikes  him — the  change  in  this  once  en- 
thusiastic young  divine,  who  came  to  Somerville 
to  accomplish  wonders — that  is  long  ago  now. 
The  long  gallops  before  breakfast,  perhaps.  Say 
it  is  the  plunges  the  year  around  into  the  cold 
pool.  Maybe  it  is  because,  in  intervals  of  study, 
Mr.  Arthur  toils  in  Mrs.  Sorel's  garden  so  with 
hoe  and  spade.  Because,  once  too  reliant  on 
others,  circumstances  in  these  days  have  thrown 
him  altogether  on  himself,  perhaps.  And  it  may 
be  for  the  reason  that  he  has  been  ewimming 
very  long  now  against  a  current  broad  and  deep. 
All  the  providences  of  Heaven,  from  without  and 
from  within,  have  wrought  together  to  make 
him,  bodily,  mentally,  spiritually,  a  thousand 
times  the  man  he  once  was.  Men  will  turn  to 
look  upon  him  as  he  passes  them  hereafter,  say- 
ing to  themselves,  "  There  is  one  who  has  had  a 
history."  Ay,  and  one,  please  God,  who  has  a 
history  before  him  also. 

The  Scotchman  removes  a  tumbler  of  fresh 
flowers  from  oflP  an  old  volume  of  Shakspeare  on 
the  table ;  and  with  the  sight  and  smell  of  the 
flowers  is  mingled  a  fair  face  he  sees  at  Sunday- 
school  and  church.  Yes,  yes,  if  God  will,  there 
shall  be  a  story,  yet  unlived,  as  pleasant  as  any 
Winter's  Tale  or  As  you  Like  It  in  old  Shaks- 
peare or  out  of  it :  a  story  of  love  through  years 
of  trial,  and,  at  last,  union  just  the  sweeter  and 
more  perfect  for  all  that.    Not  that  Mr.  Fergu- 


son is  perfectly  confident ;  he  knows  too  much 
of  this  sorrowful  world  for  that.  If  it  is  in  my 
jjower,  he  says. 

But  Mr.  Arthur  is  thinking  as  he  walks  of 
that  last  visit  good  Mr.  Ellis  made  him  the  Satur- 
day before  Mr.  Ellis's  last  aj)pearance  at  church. 
"I  do  not  ask  you  to  take  an  active  part," 
Mr.  Ellis  had  closed  a  long  entreaty  with  bis 
pastor  by  saying.  "I  confess  there  is  much  in 
Mr.  Barker's  temper  and  manner  which  I  can 
not  approve.  But  people  tell  me  every  day  that 
you  wish  the  defeat  of  the  Confederacy,  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Federals.  Assure  me  this  is  not  so. 
This  is  all  I  ask." 

Mr.  Ellis  had  been  urging  the  waning  influ- 
ence and  usefulness  of  his  pastor  with  tears  in 
his  eyes;  most  sincerely  is  he  attached  to  his 
pastor  and  to  his  church.  If  he  possibly  could 
he  would  cling  to  both. 

"  Being  born  at  the  South,  it  is  impossible  for 
me,  as  for  you,  to  desire  any  thing  other  than 
what  is  for  the  welfare  of  the  South.  As  to  the 
rest,  I  can  only  say,  God's  will  in  regard  to  the 
South  be  done.  He  knows  what  is  best  f9r  the 
South  ;  let  us  leave  it  to  Him." 

And  Mr.  Ellis  can  by  no  means  be  satisfied 
with  that.  If  Mr.  Arthur  could  only  have  told  him 
that  he  can  not  regard  either  Secession  or  slav- 
ery as  things  for  which  Heaven  is  likely  to  fight. 

Dark  days  these  for  Mr.  Ellis.  True,  the  Con- 
federacy has  been  most  wonderfully  victorious  of 
late ;  its  ultimate  success  is  a  certainty,  of  course. 
But  then  Henry  is  off  in  camp,  terribly  exposed 
body  and  soul.  The  demoralization  even  among 
Christian  men  is  frightful.  And  Mr.  Ellis,  his 
expenses  becoming  heavier  every  day,  is  making 
nothing  there  in  his  empty  store.  Strange  to 
say,  there  is  a  love  of  property  developing  in  Mr. 
Ellis's  bosom  which  surprises  men — an  altogeth- 
er peculiar  love.  The  new  emotion  surprised 
himself  at  first;  but  he  is  past  that  now.  In 
fact,  Mr.  Ellis  is  becoming  known  as,  of  all  Se- 
cessionists in  Somenille,  that  one  whose  feelings 
are  most  involved  in  it.  He  is  nervous,  sensi- 
tive, quick  to  take  offense,  petulant  exceedingly 
when  bad  news  is  coming.  Far  from  as  liberal, 
however,  toward  the  object  as  he  was  at  first. 
He  has  been  so  drained,  you  see,  and  doubly 
drained  by  its  perpetual  appeals. 

"Who  knows,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  says  Mr.  Ar- 
thur at  last,  "  but  Providence  may  permit  the 
Confederacy  to  be  established — a  Christian  na- 
tion of  slaveholders,  off  by  itself  from  all  inter- 
meddling— to  show  what  Christianity  within  it 
can  effect  on  slaves  ?  The  world  may  thus  get  a 
new  idea  of  the  power  of  religion  ;  and  the  slaves 
may  thus  be  in  an  admirable  training  for  freedom, 
if  such  they  are  to  have  at  some  future  period." 
"  Visionary !"  growls  the  Scotchman.  "God 
works  according  to  laws  inherent  in  the  nature 
of  things.  We  have  no  Scripture  warrant  to 
calculate  upon  miracles  in  our  case ;  and  this 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Ii9 


requiies  a  double  miracle.  Only  by  a  supernat- 
ural restraint  would  the  world  be  held  baek  t'roni 
such  iuternieddlinjj;.  Only  l>y  a  miraculous  in- 
crease of  the  Christianity  at  the  South  will  own- 
ers do  more  for  and  with  their  slaves  than  here- 
tofore. Did  they  not  know  that  marriage  is  an 
ordinance,  the  relation  of  parent  and  child  is  an 
ordinance  of  God,  even  if  slavery  is,  as  well  as 
slavery?  Did  they  assert  tho^e  ordinances  for 
the  slave?  They  have  had  the  opportunity ;  it  is 
gone  from  them  forever.  Christianity  ?  It  de- 
mauds  the  observance  of  the  parental  and  mari- 
tal relation  in  the  case  of  every  disciple,  white 
and  black,  and  that  is  utterly  inconsistent  with 
the  very  existence  of  slavery.  Let  a  Christian 
owner  trv  anv  iinprovenieut  upon  the  culture  of 
his  slaves;  like  a  dog  with  a  tin  kettle  tied  to 
his  tail  he  would  be  run  out  of  the  country,  with 
Abolitionist!  fastened  to  him  in  no  time." 

'•Well,  then,"  says  his  theorizing  friend, 
"Heaven  may  permit  the  Confederacy  to  gain 
its  independence,  to  set  u])  for  itself,  isolated 
from  all  the  world,  as  a  nation  peculiar  in  this — 
that  it  claims  to  be  Christian,  yet  on  the  basis 
of  slavery.  The  Ruler  of  all  may  permit  this 
that  said  nation  may  work  out  its  own  ruin  apart 
from  all  the  world  by  the  law  of  self-destruction 
inherent  in  every  wrong  thing ;  or  that,  as  a  dis- 
tinctively slave  yet  nominally  Christian  nation, 
it  may  be  the  object  of  His  swift  and  direct 
vengeance." 

"I  prefer,"  grumbles  Mr. Ferguson,  "to  take 
a  plainer,  more  common-sense  view.  By  Seces- 
sion the  South  is  at  arm's-length  from  the  Na- 
tional Government,  and  Heaven  is  giving  that 
Government  both  will  and  power  to  scourge  the 
South  out  of  Secession  and  slavery,  and  buck  into 
civilixation,  Christianity,  the  Union,  and  the  nine- 
teenth century.  That  is  the  way  Providence  has 
worked  from  creation  till  now — by  means." 

But  Mr.  Arthur's  attention  is  rambling.  He 
has  lived  all  his  life  at  the  Soath ;  and  as  he 
walks  up  and  down  there  come  up  into  his  mind 
the  many  instances  of  oppression,  cruelty,  cor- 
ruption, awful  sin,  which  have  passed  under  his 
own  eye  in  connection  with,  and  the  direct  and, 
as  human  nature  is  constituted,  the  necessary 
fruits  of  just  such  an  institution.  How  many, 
many  there  are !  Were  he  outside  the  South  he 
would  not  mention  one  of  them  to  a  soul.  He 
would  not  narrate  a  single  instance  of  them  all 
even  to  Mr.  Ferguson.  He  almost  blamed  him- 
self for  recalling  them  to  memory.  He  an  Abo- 
litionist, even  in  thought !  Perhaps  ten  years 
hence  people  even  at  the  South  will  hardly  ad- 
preciate  the  horror  with  which  such  a  man  as  he 
shrank  then  from  the  thought.  He  ventures  now 
only  this  far: 

*'  People  say  I  am  not  sound,  Mr.  Ferguson. 
They  are  right  in  a  sense.  I  am  very  much 
apart  from  them.  If  I  could  only  stand  up  and 
speak  I     I  am  no  true  Southern  man,  they  say. 


As  if  the  believing  in  and  urging  on  the  men 
and  the  things  which  have  destroyed,  are  de- 
stroying, my  own  native  soil,  as  1  Lnuw  they  are, 
constitutes  that!  And  here  I  am  gagged,  tied 
hand  and  foot,  not  permitted  to  do  or  say  one 
thing  for  my  country,  dearer  to  me  now  than 
ever.  Make  a  gesture  even  to  save  it,  and  I  die. 
Kunning  daily  peril  of  death  for  even  tliinking 
and  feeling — " 

"  I'atience,  man !"  intcrrujjts  his  cooler  friend. 
"You  can  at  least  preach  the  Gospel." 

"  Not  all  of  it.  Not  the  many  parts  of  it  bear- 
ing directly  on  the  times.  No  Sunday  passes 
that  there  are  not  those  at  church  cxj)rcssly  to 
see  if  there  is  a  syllable  in  sermon  or  prayer 
upon  which  they  can  lay  hold.  More  than  once 
I  have  had  persons  throw  themselves,  as  if  casu- 
ally, in  my  way,  who  spoke  in  denunciation  of 
slavery  and  Secession  expressly  to  trap  me.  But 
if  it  was  not  for  this  spiritual  apathy  into  which 
we  have  all  fallen !  I  pray,  I  strive,  I  can  not 
move  it  even  though  as  with  the  finger  of  an  in- 
fant. I  can  not  even  grapple  with  it  in  my  own 
bosom.  Powerless,  absolutely  powerless!"  and 
he  falls  into  a  chair  and  covers  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

"Only  mortified  pride,"  says  the  Scotchman, 
with  the  promptitude  of  a  surgeon.  "Heaven 
would  use  you  if  it  needed  you.  Who  knows  ? 
You  may  be  in  training  for  future  usefulness. 
And  then  you  may  not  be :  only  an  atom,  any 
way !  When  you  have  learned  your  own  entire 
feebleness  you  may  lean  upon  Heaven  enough 
for  it  to  use  you  in  the  future." 

"I  feel  at  times  as  if  there  is  no  future,"  re- 
joins Mr.  Arthur,  after  a  silence.  "  That  is,  as 
if  I  had  reached  the  end  of  my  career.  No 
country  left  me.  The  very  Church  of  God  pow- 
erless, or  worked  as  the  most  powerful  of  all  en- 
gines to  delude  and  destroy  the  South.  I  will 
tell  you  what  is  about  all  my  consolation  just 
now" — drawing  a  Concordance  toward  him  as 
he  sits  at  the  tabic. 

The  Scotchman  ]iatiently  listening,  the  young 
theologian  proceeds,  with  alacrity  and  increasing 
cheerfulness  as  he  makes  his  points  more  and 
more  ])ast  all  doubt  from  Scripture,  to  prove  con- 
clusively that  the  world  will  end,  in  all  proba- 
bility, in  a  year  or  so.  He  rapidly  explains  from 
Daniel  and  Revelation  the  twelve  hundred  and 
sixty  years ;  no  doubt  on  that  point.  Now  for 
the  exact  date  from  which  this  period  is  to  date. 
Scott,  Henry,  Dr.  Cummings,  Gibbon — ISIilman 
says  diflerently,  but  isn't  to  be  trusted — dozens 
of  books  are  torn  down  from  the  shelves  and  con- 
sulted. The  Emperor  Phocas  did  declare  Greg- 
ory universal  bishop  in  COG  a.d.  "  Can  you  show 
me  on  what  ground  we  arc  to  doubt  it?"  asks 
Mr.  Arthur,  eagerly.  "Now  add  COG — please 
do  it  yourself  on  that  slip  of  paper — to  the  twelve 
hundred  and  sixty." 

"For  the  year  in  which  the  workl  is  to  end? 


150 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


I  can  calculate  without  ciphering,"  says  the 
grizzled  Scotchman,  with  amusement  under  his 
beard.     "Exactly  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty- 


six. 


"But  really  and  in  good  earnest,"'  pleads  his 
friend,  as  if  for  a  gift.  "You  know  I  never  in- 
dulge in  idle  speculations  in  private  or  jn  pub- 
lic ;  but  it  really  docs  look  as  if  it  may  be  the 
year  of  the  end  of  all.     God  in  mercy  grant  it !" 

"  All  stuff,  man !"  says  the  callous  Scotchman, 
rising  from  Iiis  seat  with  a  yawn.  "  You  would 
not  say  so  if  you  had  heard  to-day  of  the  final 
success  of  the  Federals,  not  even  if  you  had 
lieard  of  any  great  victory  on  their  part.  Non- 
•  sense,  man !  Of  that  day  and  that  hour — you 
remember."  And  Mr.  Ferguson,  conscious  of 
the  flowers  on  the  table,  tlie  fair  face  he  sees  at 
Sunday-school,  and  the  youth  and  energy  of  his 
friend,  of  his  own  new  purpose  too,  says,  em- 
phatically, "  For  one,  /  hope  not. 

"Besides,"  adds  the  Scot,  in  his  own  room, 
half  an  hour  later,  and  with  his  collection  open 
on  its  table  before  him,  "it  would  be  the  great- 
est pity,"  passing  his  hand  lovingly  over  the 
pasted  pages,  "the  greatest  pity  in  the  world 
for  such  a  collection  as  this  to  be  burned  up  in- 
complete, even  if  it  is  by  a  world  on  fire  !"  and 
thereupon  Mr.  Ferguson  falls  into  meditation  as 
to  what  kind  of  binding  will  be  good  enough  for 
said  collection  ;  and  which  of  the  Edinburgh 
public  libraries  most  worthy  of  it  at  his  death — 
all  when  the  Confederacy  is  exploded.  "My 
only  fear  is  it  will  not  last  long  enough!"  he 
adds. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Of  late  Mr.Neely — a  beef-contractor  now,  and 
getting  rich  much  more  rapidly  than  when  he 
taught  school ;  no  man  striving  more  des])erate- 
ly  than  he  to  keep  himself  in  the  very  van  of 
Southern  sentiment — finds  himself  suddeidy  mys- 
tified and  left  behind.  For  several  weeks  now 
he  has  observed  posted  up  from  time  to  time  on 
every  dead  wall  about  Somerville  a  mysterious 
placard  of  red  paper,  sword-shaped,  bearing  mys- 
tical letters : 


g-v- 


THE   MVSTEKIOCB  PLACARD. 

Turning  whithersoever  he  goes  to  keep  Mr. 
Neely  out  of  some  unknown  Paradise,  blazes  this 
awful  portent,  until  the  contractor  for  beef  can 
stand  it  no  longer.  He  has  questioned  others 
in  vain.  Why  had  he  not  thought  of  it  before  ? 
Tim  Lamum ! 

Even  after  he  found  Tim,  in  the  bar-room  of 
Staples's  Hotel,  industriously  engaged — Tim  is 
a  commissary  agent  these  days,  by  deputy,  his 
sole  business  by  day  being  to  smoke,  with  poker 
added  at  night — it  is  some  time  before  Mr.  Neely 
can  get  through  with  Burnsidc's  repulse  on  the 
Rappahannock.  This  is  the  last  news ;  and  to 
Mr.  Neely  fighting  it  over  again  with  terrific 
slaughter  Tim  only  puffs  a  languid  assent.  In 
fact,  the  war  has  become  a  bore  to  the  ex-pro- 
vost marshal ;  for  that  bubble  of  blood  has  burst 
before  this,  at  least  until  another  and  more  reg- 
ular one  can  be  blown.  The  Yankees  being  so 
invariably  and  utterly  routed  in  every  fight,  the 
independence  of  the  Confederacy  being  beyond 
all  question,  very  tired  indeed  is  Tim  of  the 
whole  subject. 

And  now,  w^hen  Mr.  Neely  at  last  arrives  at 
his  point,  and  desires  admission  to  whatever  se- 
cret society  lies  behind  the  mystic  sword,  this 
Dragon  of  the  Hesperides  has  that  one  fatal 
question  to  ask : 

"Where  were  you  born,  Mr.  Neely?"  though 
he  already  knows  perfectly  well;  and  on  Mr. 
Neely's  reply  assures  the  applicant  that  his  ad- 
mission is  therefore  an  impossibility,  and  walks 
off. 


INSIDE.— A  CllKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


151 


That  matter  of  birth — it  clings  to  Mr.  Nccly 
as  to  (EJi[)u.s  clung  his  curse.  No  cliilJ  born 
out  of  wedlock,  no  olVsjJring  of  one  wiio  dies  by 
the  hand  of  the  hangman,  so  unfortunate.  Yes ; 
if  his  mother  had  been  a  harlot  kenneled  in  n 
brotlu'l,  if  iiis  father  had  been  a  criminal  whose 
last  dying  speech  and  confession  had  been  pub- 
lished in  all  tlic  papers,  Mr.  Neely  could  have 
concealed  the  blot  and  shame  upon  liis  name  in 
some  distant  region,  and  lived  and  died  resjiect- 
ed  anil  in  peace.  But  liis  New  England  birth ! 
The  "damned  siiot"  will  not  ''out,"  ixov  can  it 
be  concealed.  New  England  training  will  not 
permit  him  to  tell  a  jioint-blank  lie  in  the  mat- 
ter, even  if  he  did  not  know  from  bitter  experi- 
ence that  a  certain  Yankeeism  clings  to  iiim  in 
spite  of  unceasing  and  long-continued  exertion, 
an  ointment  of  his  right  hand,  whicli  bewrayeth 
itself  do  what  he  can.  Cruel  misfortune  !  and 
he  so  little  to  blame  for  it,  too !  Was  it  he  or 
his  parents  who  sinned,  that  he  should  have  been 
born — in  Connecticut  ?  He  would  not  have  in- 
sisted on  South  Carolina,  if  that  were  too  great 
a  boon  ;  if  he  could  only  have  been  born  on  the 
northernmost  edge  of  Maryland,  or  the  south- 
ernmost possible  coast  of  Florida !  Better  have 
first  seen  tlie  light  even  in  the  most  desperate 
county  in  Arkansas. 

In  the  name  of  Reason  and  St.  Logic  w-hat  is 
it  constitutes  one  a  Southern  man?  What  tlic 
very  essence  and  marrow  of  the  thing  so  much 
more  desirable  to  iVIr.  Neely  than  was  the  being 
a  Roman  citizen  of  old?  Surely,  Mr.  Neely 
reasoned,  it  must  be  in  the  actually  owning  a  ne- 
gro. Yet,  while  many  a  man  who  enjoyed  the 
enviable  blessing  of  being  Southern  born,  either 
could  not  or  would  not  own  a  slave,  Mr.  Neely 
both  could  and  would  and  did.  The  first  mo- 
ment it  was  in  his  power,  with  money  industri- 
ously made  and  hoarded  for  that  one  end,  Mr. 
Neely  bought  a  negro.  Not  a  negro  man  ;  Mr. 
Neely  was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  own- 
ing of  the  article  to  venture  that  at  first.  He 
bought  a  negro  woman,  of  the  jettest  black  he 
could  get  for  the  money. 

Language  fails  to  describe  Mr.  Neely's  feel- 
ings on  that  eventful  night  when  his  woman 
Ceely,  paid  for  and  delivered,  made  herself  at 
home  in  the  kitchen  of  his  residence,  while  he 
sat  in  his  room  and  thought  it  all  over.  He 
went  back  to  the  hajijjy  hour  he  came  into  pos- 
session of  his  deceased  father's  huge  silver  watch, 
had  it  actually  ticking  in  his  distended  fob,  his 
otim  watch.  He  recalled  the  day  he  put  the  first  j 
horse  he  ever  bought  in  the  stable,  and  stood 
without  in  the  snow  listening  to  it  munching  its 
hay;  his  own  animal,  hoof  and  hide,  from  the 
tips  of  its  ears  to  the  end  of  its  tail;  his  own 
quadruped,  to  ride,  harness,  plow,  swap,  sell,  ex- 
actly as  he  pleased.  But  here  was  somctliing 
far  suj)erior  to  all  that.  A  woman,  a  living, 
breathing,  speaking,  working  wo:nan.      There 


was  the  "help"  at  his  old  home,  Keziah,  but  she 
could  drop  her  work,  place  her  arms  akimbo, 
and  give  Mr.  Neely's  mother  just  as  good  as  she 
got — could,  and  on  the  occasion  of  a  final  spat 
did,  hurry  her  things  in  her  trunk,  slam  to  the 
lid,  snap  her  fingers  in  the  face  of  the  Neely 
household,  and  depart,  leaving  them  cookless 
and  in  the  middle  of  a  heavy  washing.  But 
here  was  a  Keziah,  only  of  another  shade  of 
complexion,  who  could  cook,  wash,  iron,  ay, 
plow  and  hoe,  and  his  own,  own  property.  His 
own  woman  to  keep  or  to  hire,  to  sell  or  to  swap 
— from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  the  sole  of  her 
foot  as  much  his  own  article  as  was  his  watch  or 
his  horse.  And  then,  all  her  children  as  they 
might  come  into  the  world  his  also ! 

That  eiglit  hundred  dollars  had  bought  hini 
more  gratification  than  he  had  ever  dreamed  it 
lay  in  the  power  of  money  to  purchase ;  it  gave 
a  value  to  money  which  it  had  never  had  even 
in  Mr.  Neely's  eyes.  Mr.  Neely  sat  up  late 
thinking  it  over,  not  unconscious  of  how  much 
elevated  he  was  thereby  above  any  of  his  old  ac- 
quaintances still  resident  in  his  old  village.  He 
would  like  to  be  there — they  knowing  of  his  pur- 
chase— if  it  was  only  for  a  few  days  to  enjoy 
it.  He  woke  a  dozen  times  that  night  with  the 
thought.  He  even  went  out  once  or  twice  dur- 
ing the  night  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen  to  make 
sure  she  was  there,  heard  her  deep  breathing 
within  and  returned  satisfied.  You  who  own 
merely  houses,  lands,  bank  stock,  railway  scrip, 
and  the  like,  wait  till  you  own  a  human  being 
before  you  can  claim  to  understand  the  pleasure 
of  property.  Only  we  at  the  South  got  so  used 
to  it! 

With  Mr.  Neely  there  was  at  first  the  flushed 
eagerness  of  a  school-boy  with  a  stolen  water- 
melon ;  the  sense,  too,  of  having  achieved  a  kind 
of  moral  impossibility,  which  added  to  the  ex- 
citement of  the  purchase. 

But  these  weeks,  up  to  and  after  the  date  of 
the  sword  on  the  walls,  roll  by  very  slowly ; 
wearily,  too,  with  the  burden  of  heavy  hearts. 
A  vast  and  increasing  ditlercnee  between  Union 
men  and  all  others.  Business,  ruined  with  the 
Union  people,  was  never  more  thriving  with  good 
Secessionists.  Hardly  one  of  these  last  in  Som- 
erville  but  has  an  office,  a  contract,  an  agency — 
something  or  other  which  pays.  If  Tim  Laniura 
has  bought  one  fine  horse  in  the  last  year  ho  has 
bought  twenty,  the  best  to  be  had  in  all  the  land. 
Captain  Simmons  also.  Hitherto  it  was  with 
utmost  difficulty  he  was  able  to  pay  his  board 
bill  at  Stajiles's;  in  fact,  Joe  Staples,  his  hair 
standing  a  thousand  ways  with  indignation,  ex- 
tailor  as  he  is,  has  been  loud  in  comment  upon 
the  Captain's  delinquency,  fearless  of  consequen- 
ces. During  the  last  few  months,  however,  the 
Captain  has  "settled  up  like  a  gentleman,"  as 
Staples  himself  proclaims;  has  bought  several 
new  negroes,  drives  a  sjjlendid  pair  of  blacks — 


152 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


not,  of  course,  of  the  last-mentioned  race — and 
is  now  habitually  drunk,  and  therefore  habitually 
the  most  Chesterfieldian  in  his  intercourse  with 
others  of  any  man  in  Somerville.  Bob  Withers 
expresses  only  the  experience  of  many  thousands 
liice  him  the  South  over. 

*' As  for  me,  gentlemen,  what's  the  use  deny- 
ing the  thing  among  friends  ?  Secession  has  put 
me  on,  by  George!  my  legs  for  one?"  Only  a 
tax-collector  is  Bob ;  yet  in  some  mystic  manner 
he  has  got  capital  from  some  source,  with  wiiicli, 
ceasing  from  drinking  even  for  the  time,  in  the 
eagerness  of  a  new  excitement,  he  has  speculated 
in  flour,  salt,  and  whisky,  until,  if  we  may  credit 
his  statement,  he  is  "Rich,  by  George!  You 
can  always  count  on  returns  trading  in  the  act- 
ual necessaries  of  life,  gentlemen.  Yes,  rich ; 
you'd  better  believe  so.     Don't  pretend  to  say 


ly  now  when  prices  are  high,  that  he  too  is  get- 
ting rich.  Since  he  has  straightened  his  crossed 
legs  he  has  actually  grown  inches  in  height,  feet 
in  circumference,  beyond  all  admeasurement  in 
tlie  estimation  of  his  household  and  himself. 
Ilis  very  hair  is  more  electric  than  ever  with  in- 
creased life  at  its  roots. 

As  to  little  Joe  Staples — the  forward,  dissi- 
pated, little  offspring — under  the  new  hotel  re- 
gime, "he  has  money  in  great  rolls,  you'll  bet," 
is  the  touching  plaint  of  other  boys  to  their  pa- 
rents ;  "  buys  game-chickens,  candy,  cigars,  and 
a  new  pony  whenever  he  wants  to !"  He  is  not 
quite  nine  yet,  but  already  disdains  the  hotel 
gong  on  the  arrival  of  glorious  news.  Generally 
he  is  the  first,  after  Bill  Perkins  has  announced 
it,  at  the  Brick  Church,  holding  on  with  the 
grip  of  a  cray-fi*li  to  the  knot  on  the  end  of  the 


how  long  it  will  be  before  Tim  Lamum  there  |  rope,  rising  high  from  the  floor  into  the  air  at 


wins  it  all  from  me  at  jioker ;  but  until  that  or 
some  other  providence  happens  to  relieve  me  of 
it,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  by  George !  rich, 
yes.  Sir,  rich !" 

There  is  Smithers,  the  postmaster,  as  ordinary 


each  semicircular  sweep  of  the  great  bell. 

And  there  is  good  Mr.  Ellis.  Four  daugh- 
ters has  Mr.  Ellis,  and  two  sons.  Henry,  his 
eldest,  is  back  home  now,  a  hero  from  the  re- 
pulse on  the  Rajijiahannock,  but  a  cripple  for 


a  little  sandy-haired  man  as  you  have  in  all  your  life  with  a  shot  through  the  hip,  and  dreadfully 
circle  of  acquaintance.  A  strange  article  where-  emaciated  by  months  in  the  hospital.  Charley 
with  to  fill  a  post-ofiice  is  sugar;  yet  Smithers  Ellis,  his  brother  of  twelve,  no  longer  an  attcnd- 
has  several  rows  of  hogsheads  thereof  and  there-  ant  at  Sunday-school  or  at  church — it  being  im- 
in.  Seven  cents  a  pound  Smithers  sells  it  at?  possible  to  go  to  Mr.  Arthur's  church  any  Ion- 
No,  paid  for  it.  It  is  forty-five  cents  a  pound  ger,  since  he  will  not  pray  for  the  Confederacy 
wholesale,  fifty  cents  a  pound  retail,  he  sells  it  j  — shows  terrible  evidence  thereof  in  morals ;  is, 
at.  Smithers's  intentions  arc — negroes.  In  fact,  in  fact,  a  distress  to  his  father.  A  care-worn,  hag- 
he  is  always  in  the  market  for  a  woman  to  do  gard,  stooping  man  now,  from  whom  collectors  of 


the  housework.     An  unfortunate  man  he  inva- 
riably is  in  his  perpetual  purchases  of  the  same. 


the  perpetual  subscription-lists  for  war  purposes 
shrink  most  when  they  are  abroad — as,  for  one 


As  fast  almost  as  he  can  buy  them  do  they  run  '  such  object  or  other  they  always  are;  because 


away — owing  to  Mrs.  Smithers,  whom  even  Mrs. 
Warner  has  described  as  being  "one  of  those 
women  who  will  not  have  a  moment's  rest  her- 
self, nor  let  a  soul  on  the  place  have  it  either, 
day  or  night.  Deliver  me  from  such  creatures !" 
unconscious  that  that  respected  lady  is  as  much 
like  herself  in  that  as  is  a  pin  to  a  needle,  a  thorn 
to  a  splinter. 

If  Smithers  has  one  woman  "lying  out"  he 
has  half  a  dozen.  And  where  is  the  use  of  hav- 
ing the  dogs  to  trail  them  ?  You  have  to  pay 
more  than  the  woman  is  worth  to  catch  her. 


they  know  how  Mr.  Ellis  shrinks  from  them. 
He  really  can  not,  will  not !  The  money  is  mis- 
appropriated, or  the  object  does  not  exactly  fit 
his  way  of  thinking.  More  intensely,  bitterly, 
even  fanatically  Secession  than  ever  before  ;  yet 
Mr.  Ellis  is  getting  the  reputation,  justly  or  not, 
of  being  the  most  penurious  man  in  Somenille. 
In  far  shabbier  attire  than  he  ever  wore  in  other 
days  Mr.  Ellis,  from  talking  at  street  corners  all 
the  I'est  of  the  time,  is  frantic  to  disprove  all 
unfavorable,  and  to  magnify  all  favorable  news. 
On  Sundays  also,  discussing  Burnside  and  Lee 


And  when  she  is  caught  and  whipped,  Smithers  '  with  lying  Sam  Peters,  Tim  Lamum,  Dr,  Peel, 
doing  it  with  his  strap,  Mrs.  Smithers  with  her 
tongue,  the  first  thing  Mrs.  Smithers  finds  when 
she  wakes  of  a  morning  is  the  kitchen  hearth- 
stone cold,  and  Polly,  Molly,  Cynthy,  Aggy, 
whatever  it  is,  gone  again.  And  thus  does 
Smithers's  sugar  dissolve  away. 

Look  at  Joe  Staples.  Happy  day  for  Staples 
when  he  laid  aside  shears  and  goose,  leaped  from 
his  counter,  rallied  to  himself  the  other  eight 
parts  of  manhood,  and  went  to  keeping  tavern ! 
With  money — gold  it  was — lent  him  by  Mr.  Fer- 
guson, he  provisioned  his  house  so  thoroughly 
when  prices  were  low,  and  charges  so  enormous- 


Captain  Simmons,  and  the  rest,  while  the  bells 
are  ringing,  and  afterward  too.  As  to  that,  the 
Union  people  in  Somer\'ille  are  also  thrown  to- 
gether these  many  months  now  in  new  combina- 
tions. Society,  thoroughly  broken  up  from  its 
foundations,  is  crystallizing  into  totally  new 
forms. 

Mr.  Neely  is  flourishing  as  a  beef-contractor 
in  war  times  should.  Possessing  Confederate 
money  in  great  sheets,  he  has  bought  quite  a 
snug  tract  of  wooded  land  near  Somerville,  and 
sells  wood  ofi'  it  by  the  hundred  cords.  True,  it 
is  land  belonging  to  Guy  Brooks,  Esq.,  but  he 


IXSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


153 


being,  as  is  well  known  now,  a  Colonel  in  the 
FederiU  service,  his  property  has  been  confisca- 
ted and  sold. 

It  is  not  in  horses,  lands,  sugar,  or  even — 
which  he  declares  in  the  Star  to  be  tlie  best  of 
all  investments — negroes,  that  Lanuim,  tiie  ed- 
itor, has  placed  his  money.  Cotton  is  his  weak- 
ness. Hc])ort  whispers  into  your  ear  that  he  has 
hundreds  of  bales  safely  to  his  account  in  some 
place  over  the  water — but  report  says  the  same 
thing  of  most  of  the  Secession  leaders ;  it  may 
all  be  false.  Witli  Government  teams  an  im- 
mense deal  of  cotton  is  certainly  going  to  the 
nearest  ports,  the  Government  stores  coming 
back  on  blockade-runners  being  singularly  dis- 
proportionate. In  fact,  a  cry  of  swindling  and 
corrujition  and  favoritism  is  already  begun,  which 
swells  every  day ;  only  among  the  ])eo])lc,  how- 
ever, and  the  power  has  long  ago  passed  out  of 
their  hands. 

Dr.  Ginnis,  big,  pompous,  spending  his  mon- 
ey— on  all  sorts  of  Medical  Boards  these  days — 
in  improving  his  place  in  Somerville,  asserts 
that  Dr.  Peel,  who  has  half  a  dozen  contracts, 
has  made  half  a  million — but  who  can  say? 

"Even  an  infidel,"  reasons  Mrs.  "Warner  to 
her  husband,  "can  see  the  Almighty  is  on  our 
side  by  the  way  He  is  blessing  us.  Every  mail 
brings  news  of  glorious  victories,  and  scarce  a 
Secessionist  at  home — I  mean  those  who  took 
a  leading  hand — but  is  coining  money.  As  to 
those  miserable,  God-forsaken  Union  people — 
look  at  them !     I  say,  only  look  at  them  !" 

Well,  yes.  As  a  general  rule  these  last  have 
sacrificed  to  their  ))ighcadedness,  to  their  perverse 
principles,  everj'  thing  in  the  shajie  not  only  of 
popularity,  common  respect  even,  but  of  busi- 
ness also.  But  their  infatuation,  their  obstinate 
convictions,  like  cancers  in  the  bosom,  seem  de- 
stroying their  victims ;  and,  like  cancers,  are  in- 
curable— only  the  more  deep-seated  as  the  days 
roll  by  and  Secession  develops  itself.  Their  love 
for  what  they  still  persist  in  calling  their  coun- 
try glows  still  unquenched,  unquenchable.  , 

You  who  lived  outside  the  South  during  the 
war,  reading  all  varieties  of  papers,  speaking 
exactly  what  you  ha])pened  to  think  and  feel, 
imagine,  if  you  can,  yourself  to  have  been  placed 
as  these  were.  You  were  no  more  accustomed 
all  your  life  hitherto  to  freedom  than  were  these. 
Your  convictions  upon  the  whole  matter  were 
not  clearer  than  were  those  of  these  men ;  only, 
living  within  the  disease  itself  they  knew  more 
of  its  misery  than  you  could.  To  them  the  re- 
bellion is  devastating  their  own  soil.  Think  of 
yourself  as,  under  like  circumstance,  not  dar- 
ing to  speak  your  deepest  and  dearest  sentiments 
at  your  own  table  and  fireside  lest  your  very 
children  should,  by  their  unguarded  babble,  be- 
tray yon  to  death.  Imagine  yourself  doomed 
every  day  of  your  life  to  hear  read  aloud  from 
the -papers  and -spoken  by  every  ^ngue  that 


which  you  knew  to  be  lies;  forced  to  see  the 
commonest  of  common  sense  hourly  trodden 
under  foot ;  comjiellcd  continually  to  hear  ap- 
proved things  subversive  of  all  morality,  jx)wer- 
less  to  help  yourself;  obliged  to  hoar  positions 
assumed  by  Christian  men  and  women,  by  Chris- 
tian ministere  and  in  churches  on  the  Sabbath 
— positions  assumed,  sentiments  advanced,  jdans 
j)ropo.sed,  wliicli,  in  common  witii  every  believer 
in  Christianity  outside  the  malaria  of  Secession, 
you  knew  to  be  exactly  that  which  Cliristianity 
was  given  to  overthrow — principles  which  you 
knew,  as  well  as  you  could  know  any  thing,  to 
be  of  the  devil,  fathered  upon  a  holy  God !  All 
this,  and  you  required  to  sit  under  it  all  like  a 
statue ! 

The  next  time,  dear  reader,  you  hear  news, 
glad  news,  which  causes  all  your  heart  to  leap 
for  joy,  oblige  me  by  trying  yourself  the  ex])er- 
iment  of  wearing  thereupon  and  therefor  the 
saddest  of  countenances,  as  if  for  tidings  the 
most  disastrous.  On  the  next  occasion  you 
hear  news  which  rings  a  death-knell  to  your 
fondest  hopes,  be  so  kind  as  to  assume  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  who  has  just  heard  what  he  most 
desired.  This  was  only  the  lot  of  Union  ])eople 
at  the  South  all  the  war  through.  Your  son, 
your  husband,  off  from  you  in  the  Confederate 
ranks,  enduring  all  the  privations  of  a  soldier's 
life,  fighting,  in  spite  of  yourself  and  himself,  in 
a  cause  you  abhor ;  fighting  against  all  of  suc- 
cor that  is  coming  doubtfully  toward  you !  But 
you  can  not  imagine  it  as  we  felt  it. 

"  Never  was  my  poor  faith  in  God  as  strong 
as  it  is  now,"  placid  Mrs.  Sorel  says  to  Mr.  Ar- 
thur in  these  days  of  the  repulse  of  Burnside. 
"Because  I  feel  that  nothing  but  his  special 
grace  could  sustain  me  as  I  am  sustained.  That 
my  boy — my  Frank — but  the  other  day  standing 
beside  me,  with  his  dead  father's  eyes  and  hair 
and  very  voice,  his  father's  strong  sense  begin- 
ning to  beam  upon  his  forehead — my  pride,  be- 
side Robby — my  sole  hope  on  earth — that  he 
should  be  undergoing  all  those  hoiTors  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  for  what  ?"  And  the  tear  wliich 
trickles  down  her  cheek  as  she  bends  lower  down 
over  her  sewing  is,  alas !  but  one  of  the  drops 
as  abundant  as  rain  which,  from  the  same  cause, 
fall  over  the  whole  South. 

Because  Frank  Sorel  has  been  trained  to  be 
true  to  his  name  in  all  his  dealings  with  his 
mother,  as  with  every  one  else,  and  writes,  ac- 
cordingly, as  truthfully  as  he  would  have  spoken 
had  he  been  at  home.  Letters  filled,  as  all  truth- 
ful letters  from  Confederate  armies  these  days 
are,  with  tales  of  nakedness,  hunger,  loatlisome 
food,  exhausting  marches,  cold,  and  wet;  let- 
ters telling  of  filth,  vermin,  disease,  death  by 
hundreds,  like  that  among  infected  sheep ;  let- 
ters after  battles  in  which  valor  the  most  des- 
perate avails  as  nothing  against  artillery,  and 
persistence  even  after  frequent  defeat,  and  tell- 


154 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ing  of  all  the  after-horrors  of  wounded,  dying, 
dead ;  letters  at  least  hinting  at  the  gambling, 
hideous  profanity,  and  licentiousness,  before 
which  even  white-headed  Ciiristians  give  way, 
even  Chaplains  not  rarely  go  down  ;  letters 
written  on  a  blanket  spread  on  the  ground,  on 
saddle  flaps,  all  blotted  and  blurred.  If  Mr. 
Ferguson,  now,  could  only  have  made  up  a  li- 
brary of  volumes  of  the  war  letters  ! 

"And  we  have  Davis's  assertion  that  the  war 
may  last  for  years,"  says  Mr.  Arthur.  "Even 
after  it  is  over,  the  Confederacy  a  success,  our 
young  men  have  still  to  be  soldiers,  partlj*  to 
watch  the  North,  partly  to  stand  perpetual  guard 
over  the  negroes,  then  a  hundred-fold  more  in 
need  of  being  guarded  than  ever.  May  Heaven 
deliver  Frank  and  Robhy  here  from  such  a  coun- 
try !  The  ruin  of  our  glorious  land,  and  all  this 
fur — slavery."  How  evident  that  Mr.  Arthur  is 
becoming  a  fanatic ! 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Arthur,"  says  Mrs.  Sorel, 
gravely,  "but  we  will  not  speak  on  that  sub- 
ject. You  know  all  my  life-long  prejudices  on 
the  matter.  If  our  peculiar  institutions  are  dis- 
])leasing  to  Heaven,  it  will  do  away  with  them 
in  its  own  time  and  way.  I  would  not  raise  a 
finger  in  the  matter.  Meanwhile,  to  talk  ujion 
the  subject — pardon  me — is  disagreeable  to  me. 
You  know  I  am  a  South  Carolinian,  and  we 
have  been  so  basely  abused  by  the  Abolition- 
ists !  I  am  too  old  to  change  my  views,  too  old 
even  to  think  patiently  upon  the  subject." 

Not  the  only  Union  heart  in  the  South  which 
at  that  day  shrank  from  all  investigation  on 
that  point.  We  all  shudder  and  turn  away 
when  the  bandages  come  to  be  unwrapped  from 
an  ulcer  or  a  wound  long  neglected.  We  are 
so  constituted,  some  of  us,  we  grow  pale,  sicken, 
faint — we  can  not  do  it.  We  prefer  to  let  the 
bandages  stay,  and  hope  for  the  best.  Put  on 
the  broadcloth  over  it  all,  and,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  let  us  say  no  more  about  it. 

Mrs.  Bowles  is  whitening  in  her  hair  these 
days  as  well  as  Mrs.  Sorel.  Not  trouble  only — 
bewilderment.  Things  were  so  perfectly  settled 
in  her  younger  days  there  in  South  Carolina. 
If  Mr.  Neely  was  not  born  there  Mrs.  Bowles 
was ;  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  her  every  waking 
hour  of  her  life ;  she  escapes  as  much  as  she 
can  out  of  the  present  which  so  stuns  her  into 
that  blessed  past. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Sorel,  please  advise  with  mo,  talk 
with  me  as  you  used  to  do.  There  is  such  a  dif- 
ference between  the  two  opinions ;  they  are  in 
such  conflict  one  of  them  must  be  victorious  over 
the  other  before  very  long.  Which  is  the  right 
one  ?  Won't  you  tell  me  something  ?"  It  is  Al- 
ice who  says  it,  seated  on  a  stool  at  Mrs.  Sorel's 
feet,  in  INIrs.  Sorel's  own  room.  Her  friend  sews 
and  muses  with  bowed  head,  muses  almost  un- 
conscious that  Alice  beside  her  is  other  than  the 
little  girl  she  was  it  seems  but  yesterday. 


I      "You  know  you  have  always  been  another 

mother  to  me.     You  used  to  advise  me  in  all 

my  little  troubles,  and  always  advised  me  right," 

'  pleads  Alice.     "What  do  you  think — what  ought 

I  to  think  upon  these  terrible  things?" 

i      "Do  not  think  uj)on  them  at  all,  Alice,"  says 

Mrs.  Sorel.     "We  arc  women.     Let  the  men 

I  think  and  vote  and  fight." 

"In  so  awful  a  state  of  things  even  we  ought 
to  know  at  least  which  is  right  and  which  is 
wrong,"  begins  Alice. 

"It  is  a  theological  aflfair  in  part;  why  not 
consult  Mr.  Arthur?"  asks  Mrs.  Sorel,  with 
something  of  the  smile  of  other  days  as  she 
looks  her  fair  visitor  in  the  eyes  ui)turned  to 
hers.  Alice  colors  beneath  the  smile,  droj)s  the 
long  lashes  over  her  eyes,  but  answers  none  the 
less  ])romptly : 

"A  minister  has  already  advised  me  on  the 
subject — that  Mr.  Barker.  You  know  mamma 
has  not  attended  Mr.  Arthur's  church  for  some 
'  time.  Mr.  Barker  has  had  the  good  taste  to 
make  her  a  pastoral  visit  in  consequence.  But 
you  know  mamma.  Good  Secessionist  as  she 
is,  she  has  a  horror  none  the  less  for  such  men 
as  Dr.  Peel, Dr.  Ginnis — especially  for  Mr.  Bark- 
er, almost  as  much  aversion  as  for  the  Aboli- 
tionist preachers.  She  sent  down  a  request  to 
be  excused.  He  did  not  understand  it  in  the 
least,  and  left  behind,  with  his  comjiliments  for 
j  mamma,  his  last  printed  sermon." 

"Well?" 

"  Ob,  I  actually  read  it  through  !"  says  Alice. 
He  preached  it  on  one  of  his  visits  to  the  caj)ital 
of  the  State,  and  it  was  published,  as  the  Preface 
says,  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  Governor  and 
all  the  other  officials  there." 

"And  what  is  it  all  about?  Colonel  Juggins 
always  sends  me  over  ]\Ir.  Barker's  sermons  as 
fast  as  they  are  published,  as  well  as  every  thing 
of  the  kind,  Uit  I'm  ashamed  to  say,"  adds  Mrs. 
Sorel,  "that  I  have  never  read  one  of  them 
yet." 

^  "  All  about  the  Institution.  It  is  like  what 
I  have  read  about  the  clergy  of  Europe  preach- 
ing that  kings  rule  the  people  by  Divine  right. 
They  proved  from  Scripture  that  dcsj^otism  is 
not  of  man  at  all,  but  exists  by  Divine  ordi- 
nance. All  who  believe  in  and  fight  for  des- 
potism are  God's  peculiar  people.  All  who  op- 
pose kings  are  infidels.  This  combining  of  the 
preachers  for  slavery  so  earnestly  reminds  me 
of  the  Holy  Alliance  of  Europe.  Am  I  wrong. 
Aunty?" 

"I  have  been  trained  from  my  birth,  my 
dear,"  says  Sirs.  Sorel,  gravely,  "to  believe  that 
the  Bible  does  expressly  sanction  slavery.  It  is 
true  I  have  never  read  but  on  one  side.  I  may 
add,  that  I  have  at  times  had  some  painful  doubts 
on  account  of  some  of  the  things  which  seem  in- 
separable from  slavery,  yet  you  know  there  is 
no  institution  but  is  liable  to  be  abused.     Two 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


15: 


things  settled  my  mind  :  the  Abolitionists  are  a 
bad,  viuleiit,  blas]>lieiiiin{;  )»cople — avowed  in- 
fidels many  of  them,  niiuiing  into  a  thousand 
isms  and  errors.  With  such  a  people  God  can 
not  be.  And,  tlicn,  what  to  do  with  the  blacks 
if  they  were  freed  ?  IJiit  we  won't  talk  about  it, 
dear ;  there  is  nothing  I  dislike  more.  God  will 
do  what  is  rij^ht." 

"  Only  thi.>i,  Aunty — it  does  look  so  much  as 
if  men  who  themselves  cared  nothing  for  the  Bi- 
ble were  using  tlic  preachers  as  a  convenient  set 
of  tools  to  cstablisli  their  own  purposes.  And  I 
could  not  but  think,"  adds  Alice,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  if  the  Cliureli  in  the  South — God's  own 
Church — should  turn  out  to  be  the  chiefcst  in- 
strument in  defending  a  great  wrong — " 

"My  darling  Alice,"  interrupts  Mrs.  Sorel, 
nervously,  and  j)lacing  .her  hand  upon  the  lips 
of  her  visitor,  "you  must  permit  me;  please, 
don't.  How  earnest  you  are  !  Let  us  talk  about 
something  else.  I  am  an  old  woman  now.  You 
young  people  belong,  for  what  I  know,  to  a  new 
order  of  things ;  but  you  must  let  us  old  people 
alone  in  our  notions.  Did  I  tell  you  about  Hob- 
by's fight  with  Charley  Ellis  ?  I  would  like  you 
to  see  Jiow  he  has  grown  ;  but  he  has  gone  fish- 
ing with  Mr.  Arthur — no  one  in  the  world  like 
Mr.  Arthur.  And  you  actually  did  this  trans- 
ferring yourself — take  off  your  collar,  dear,  that 
I  may  see  it  better.  And  what  does  your  mo- 
ther think  of  the  terrible  prices  ?  Mr.  Arthur 
insists  on  not  having  any  sugar  in  his  coffee. 
He  thinks  I  must  have  white  sugar  for  my  tea — 
actually  bought  up  the  last  fifty  pounds  in  Som- 
ervillc  for  me.  But  just  to  think :  weod  ten 
dollars  a  cord ;  meal  five  dollars  a  bushel.  Not 
a  bit  of  flour.  Molasses  four  dollars,  beef  fifty 
cents,  fifteen  dollars  for  the  coarsest  shoes." 

"I  make  my  own,  Aunty  ;  you  know  how  in- 
dcjjcndent  I  am  ;  pretty  pood  for  a  first  attempt, 
are  they  not  ?"  and  Alice,  holding  aside  her 
skirts,  puts  forth  the  neatest  of  little  feet. 

"  And  Alice,  dear,  your  mother  did  have  to 
sell  Charles  ?"  Mrs.  Sorel  asks  in  the  lowest  of 
tones,  gently  as  to  a  sick  child. 

Ah,  how  the  bright  young  face  at  her  knee 
clouds ! 

"I  will  tell  you,  Aimt  Sorel.  Ma  says  it  is 
because  Charles  has  been  so  insolent  of  late,  and 
she  has  no  one  to  control  him  ;  but  we  were  com- 
jielled  to,  every  thing  is  so  vcr}'  dear.  I  plead 
with  her  to  let  me  sell  my  piano  instead  ;  she 
would  not  let  me  even  speak  of  it.  And  such 
trouble  we  have  had  with  Cliarles's  wife  ever 
since!  but  what  could  we  do?  And,  then,  she 
may  revenge  herself  on  us." 

"  Revenge  herself,  child  ?" 
"  You  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  I  would 
tell,"  says  Alice,  her  eyes  so  troubled  as  makes 
Mrs.  Sorcl's  heart  sick  to  see.  "  But  I  do  be- 
lieve Sally  has  given  that  Mrs.  Warner  a  hint 
already  of  the — the  plain  way  in  which  we  have 


to  live.     What  I  most  dread  is,  that  Sally  may 
tell  of  my  making  things." 

".Making  things,  dear?" 

"  Making  caps — those  ridiculous  military  caps 
that  are  so  much  worn  now.  You  know  I  can 
make  them  before  ma  is  up  in  the  morning,  and 
when  she  supposed  I  was  reading  or  writing  to 
Hutledge  in  the  front-yard  office.  They  sell 
tlieni  at  the  stores  for  five  dollars  each,  and  jiiiy 
me  three.  I  was  obliged  to  take  Sally  into  my 
confidence  to  sell  them  ;  and  you  can't  imagine 
what  managing  it  has  taken  to  keep  ma  and 
the  storekeepers  from  knowing  about  inij  mak- 
ing them.  If  she  knew  of  it  I  do  believe  it  would 
make  her  seriously  ill." 

"And  you  have  sold  your  pony,  Alice?" 

"Of  course.  Aunt  Sorel;  with  corn  so  high 
what  could  I  do?"  But  Alice's  assumed  gayety 
is  not  altogether  a  success,  for  Lightning  Bug 
was  a  great  favoritf. 

"No  letter  from  Rutlcdge  yet?"  Mrs.  Sorel 
asks  after  a  long  silence,  during  which  she  is 
smoothing  down  the  long  liair  of  Alice,  seated 
at  her  knee  thoughtfully. 

"  Not  a  line  for  months  now.  Oh,  Aunt  Sorel, 
we  have  so  much  trouble!"  And  leaning  her 
head  upon  knees  which  have  often  supported  her 
in  infancy,  Alice  wept  silently.  "I  do  believe 
if  it  was  not  that  I  have  to  be  cheerful  and  man- 
aging in  order  to  keep  ma's  spirits  uji,  I  would 
— I  do  not  know  what  would  become  of  me!" 
Alice  adds  at  last  without  raising  her  head. 

It  was  one  result  of  Alice's  visit  to  Jlrs.  Sorel 
that,  closeted  that  very  night  with  Sally  in  the 
kitchen,  she  told  her  all.  Ever  since  Charles 
had  been  sold  Sally  had  been  sullen,  on  the  usual 
road  to  insolence,  insubordination,  the  marshal 
called  in  to  whip  her  as  a  last  resort ;  only  the 
worse  for  that ;  next  the  calaboose ;  after  that 
disgrace  a  servant  lost  to  all  love  or  fear;  al- 
ways insolent,  always  being  whipped,  always 
running  away,  in  some  instances  slipping  James- 
town weed  or  some  other  poison  into  the  family 
coffee-pot. 

"Why,  good  law,  Miss  Alice,  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  all  dis  before?"  is  all  Sally  can  say  for 
some  time,  her  tears  flowing  jilcntifully  in  unison 
with  those  of  her  young  mistress.  "Ef  I  had 
only  knowed  it !  An'  I  half  suspicioned  some- 
thin'  of  de  kind,  you  carryin'  on  so  with  them 
caps  an'  things.  On'y  you  tolled  me  so  many 
little  fibs.  Miss  Alice.  Bless  your  soul,  you  know 
you  did,  an'  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit.  I  dun't 
mind  one  straw  'bout  Charles  now.  You  see  he 
don't  hab  to  leab  SomeiTille.  Fact  I'd  rather 
your  ma  did  sell  him  ;  he  was  about  the  lot  all 
de  time  before ;  now  he  comes  home  on'y  at 
night,  sets  more  by  me,  an'  I  sets  more  by  him 
'  for  bavin'  him  off  some.  Solium  fact  is,  I  'serve 
cowlii<lin'  for  not  secin'  it  all  before ;  an'  you 
an'  your  ma,  all  of  us,  from  Souf  Car'lina  too ! 
!  All  obcr  now,"  she  adds,  soothing  Alice  like  a 


156 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


MAKING  CAPS. 


child.  "You  get  up  in  de  mornin'  de  same 
Miss  Alice,  proud-like  an'  strong ;  need  nebber 
say  'nother  word  to  me." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  Sally  has  come  back  to 
her  senses  again,"  says  Mrs.  Bowles,  profoundly 


ignorant  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  as  she  and  her 
daughter  sit  sewing  together  the  next  morn- 
ing; "but  it  is  all  in  the  State  they  are  from. 
They  may  talk  about  their  old  Virginia  serv- 
ants ;  at  last  there  is  all  the  difference  in  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


world  between  even  them  and  our  South  Caro-  I      "Sally  came  back  from  market  by  way  of  the 
lina  black  people.     As  your  dear  father  used  to  '  place,  and  says  his  whole  projierty  there  is  gone 

only  the  chimneys  left,"  rejoins  the  daughter. 
And  this  brings  us  back  to  the  niglit  before. 


say,  it  is  only  in  South  Carolina  that  slavery  as 
an  institution  exists  in  perfection." 

At  the  moment  her  mother  was  speaking, 
Alice,  by  some  singular  association,  was  think- 
ing of  a  picnic  long  ago  in  tiie  woods,  when  Mr. 
Arthur,  rolling  over  an  old  log  to  serve  her  as 


At  the  very  hour  in  which  Alice  was  admit- 
ting Sally  into  her  secret,  the  C.  C.  were  en- 
gaged in  admitting  Ilcnry  Ellis  into  theirs. 
Henry  is  a  wounded  hero,  and  he  is  hastened — 


a  seat,  had  jjointcd  out  to  her  the  ants  thus  un-  no  neophyte  fitter  for  these  Eleusinian  myster- 
covered  to  the  light  scampering  off  in  every  di-  ies  than  he — into  that  dread  organization,  hold- 
rection  for  their  lives.     It  happened  she  had  just  |  ing  midnight  conclave  in  the  upper  room  over 


been  reading  aloud  to  her  mother  from  the  pa- 
pers an  account  of  tiie  manner  in  which  the 
planters  of  Virginia,  Tennessee,  Alabama,  al- 
most all  of  the  Slave  States,  were  hurrying  about 
with  their  negroes  from  the  Federals  breaking  in.  , 


Mr.  Ellis's  store.  Though  violently  opposed  to 
masonry  and  all  secret  societies  heretofore,  the 
rush  of  Secession  swept  him  into  the  new  society 
as  into  many  another  position  from  which  he 
would  before  have  shrunk.     Is  the  heavy  ex- 


"  What  the  Yankees  call  the  breaking  in  of  the  ]  pensc  attendant  upon  his  membership  therein 


nineteentii  century  upon  tliem,  I  sup])ose,"  said 
Alice  to  herself,  singularly  mingling  the  inci- 
dent of  the  log  and  the  events  of  the  day  with 
feelings  of  pleasure  and  i)ain  wonderfully  blended 
together.  That  Satan  should  put  such  thoughts 
in  a  heart  so  pure,  so  secluded,  too,  from  his 
usual  outward  appliances ! 

''I  have  been  thinking  more  than  ever  before 
in  my  life  as  I  lay  awake  a  little  last  night  of 
one  thing  Mi-s.  Sorel  told  me,"  says  Alice  to  her 
mother  after  an  account,  not  a  complete  one,  of 
her  yesterday's  visit. 

"It  is  amazing  about  Mrs.  Sorel,  perfectly 
past  my  comprehension,"  says  Mrs.  Bowles,  sad- 
ly. "  She  a  South  Carolinian  herself,  and  aft- 
er South  Carolina  had  itself  seceded  and  caused 
the  other  States  to  do  the  same !  But  what  was 
it,  Alice  ?  I  know  Mrs.  Sorel  too  well  to  sup- 
pose she  would  attempt  to  pervert  your  judg- 
ment— " 

"  She  did  not  allude  to  it  once,  mamma.  No, 
she  was  speaking  of  the  little  things  that  occur 
to  one.  She  insists  that  each  even  of  the  small- 
est events  happens  to  each  of  us  by  the  special 
ordering  of  Heaven.  That  each  event  is  of  just 
such  a  kind  as  is  best  fitted  to  destroy  what  is 
weak  or  wrong  in  us,  to  qualify  ns  to  be  hap- 
pier, more  useful  to  God  and  men  here  and  here- 
after. She  says  that  generally  even  the  most 
painful  events  have  most  influence  on  one  in  this 
way  for  good."  But  the  last  words  of  this  Alice 
murmurs  almost  below  her  breath  and  to  her- 
self, with  her  eyes  fastened  upon  the  fire.  "  God 
help  ?«€  to  understand  and  feel  and  believe  this 
all  the  time  !"  is  the  silent  prayer  of  her  soul. 

"  Mrs.  Sorel  is  a  truly  pious  woman,  although 
strangely  permitted  to  err  in  regard  to  her  na- 
tive country,"  assents  Mrs.  Bowles.  "By-the- 
by.  Dr.  Ginnis  is  a  member  of  Mr.  Barker's 
church,  I  believe.  I  trust  he  will  have  piety  to 
feel,  under  his  loss  last  night,  the  truth  of  what 
Mrs.  Sorel  told  you,  but  which,  my  dear,  I  have 
myself  instructed  you  in  long  ago  in  reference  to 
a  Providence  over  us.  It  is  my  only  hope  in 
reference  to  Rutlcdge  Bowles,  I  am  sure." 


the  only  reason  why  he  rather  regrets  the  step 
after  the  first  few  weeks?  Nor  has  he  seemed 
specially  pleased  that  Henry  should  be  initiated 
into  this  modern  Vehme  Gei-icht. 

Consumed  with  intense  curiosity,  we  follow 
Henry  Ellis  as  he  enters  the  front-door  below 
stairs,  conducted  by  Tim  Lamum,  who  bears, 
instead  of  a  lighted  torch  in  his  hand,  a  cigar  in 
his  mouth   as  they  grope  along  the  darkness 
within.      There  is  a  tremendous  oath    in    re- 
nunciation and  denunciation  of  the  old  Union, 
and  of  intensest  devotion  to  the  Confederacy, 
and  especially  to  Slavery,  administered  to  them 
when  inside  the  front-door,  when  at  the  bottom 
of  the  steps,  when  arrived  at  the  top  thereof ; 
nor  are  they  admitted  into  the  door  of  the  inner- 
most arcana  without  a  repetition  of  the  same. 
And  very  imposing  it  all  is  therein :  the  mem- 
bers seated  along  the  sides  of  the  room,  an  ele- 
vated seat  at  the  far  end,  draped  with  a  black 
flag,  while  before  it  burn  a  certain  number  of 
candles,  to  signify  the  Confederate  States  ;  oth- 
er unlighted  candles  among  them,  to  indicate  the 
deplorable  condition  for  the  present  of  Missouri, 
Kentucky,  and  Maryland.    Dr.  Peel,  in  very  re- 
markable attire,  occupies  the  seat  as  the  Glorious 
Calhoun,  presiding.     And  very  imposing  the  cer- 
emony is  when  Henry  Ellis  has  it  explained  to 
him,  by  the  Glorious  Calhoun  before  whom  he 
stands,  that  a  certain  altar  thereby — on  which 
lies  a  Confederate  flag,  upon  which  is  placed  a 
Bible — represents  that,  of  all  nations  on  earth,  it 
is  the  Confederacy  which  is  truly  Scriptural.    In 
vivid  proof  of  which  the  whole  Scripture  record 
of  Xoah's  curse  upon  Cain  is  immediately  en- 
acted before  him  :  Drunkenness  of  Noah — tent- 
scene — Shem,   Ham,   Japheth,   and   all.     The 
effect  is  somewhat  impaired,  however,  by  Noah, 
a  venerable  patriarch  with  a  white  beard  to  his 
waist,  to  whom  Ham,  very  black  indeed,  holds  a 
candle  while  being  duly  cursed  by  Noah  from  a 
book. 

"  '  Cursed  be  Canaan,'  "  reads  a  well-known, 
frank,  and  honest  voice,  "'a  servant  of  serv- 
ants shall  he  be — '     By  George  I  Simmons,  hold 


158 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  candle  nearer,  can't  you!  'Blessed  be — ' 
One  half  inch  more,  Simmons,  and  you  would 
have  set  the  beard  on  fire.  If  I  was  too  drunk 
to  stand,  by  George !''  adds  Noah,  with  asperi- 
ty, "I'd  lie  down."  And  Ham  reels  away  at 
last,  tlie  curse  being  endless  and  overwhelming, 
in  dcjjlorable  jjliglit. 

Next  Abraham,  with  a  voice  and  gestures  sin- 
gularly like  those  of  Brother  Barker,  in  sj)ite  of 
beard  and  mask,  reads  the  neophyte  brought  be- 
fore him  in  another  part  of  the  room  a  lengthy 
lecture,  embracing  the  rest  of  the  Biblical  argu- 
ment for  Slavery,  closing  with  a  strong  intima- 
tion that  as  the  South,  in  obeying  the  Divine 
command  in  this  matter,  are  therefore  God's 
peculiar  people,  those  nations  who  do  not  do 
the  same  are  under  the  wrath  of  Heaven.  Shall 
we  relate  how  George  "Washington,  risen  from 
his  grave  in  thp  person  of  Dr.  Ginnis,  rehears- 
es— in  bag-wig,  knee-buckles,  and  portentous 
voice — the  innumerable  wrongs  of  the  North  and 
the  rights  of  the  South  ?  Nor  shall  we  wholly 
abstain  from  referring  to  a  sarcastic  Eulogy  upon 
the  Union  delivered  by  the  Evil  One  himself,  to 
personify  whom  the  only  alterations  Tim  Lamum 
thinks  it  necessary  to  make  in  himself  are  a  tail 
and  a  pair  of  horns.  After  which  the  novice  is 
instructed  in  all  the  countersigns  and  grips,'  and 
learns  also  that  the  mystic  C.  0.  stand  for  Chil- 
dren of  Calhoun,  and  also  for  Curse  of  Canaan, 
and  the  red  sword  to  be  pasted  so  as  always  to 
point  North — but  that  needs  no  explanation. 

Next  follows  the  arrangement  of  certain  mon- 
eyed matters  relating  to  the  widows  and  orphans 
of  soldiers,  in  which  the  sums  specified  bear 
ludicrous  proportion  to  the  grandeur  of  their  dis- 
tribution. 

"Children  of  Calhoun.  Business,"  says  Dr. 
Peel  at  last. 

Whereupon,  to  the  astonishment  of  Henry 
Ellis,  the  lights  are  put  out  and  the  conclave 
left  in  perfect  darkness,  during  which  the  entire 
membership  are  evidently  emjjloyed  in  changing 
their  seats. 

"Business!"  says  the  Glorious  Calhoun,  at 
last. 

"  Glorious  Calhoun  I"  A  voice  from  the  dark- 
ness. 

"At  my  post!"  replies  that  individual. 

"Silas  Jewet,  conscript,  sought  for.  Fled!" 
says  the  voice. 

' '  Isaac  Smith,  over  conscript  age,  but  disloyal. 
Warned  to  leave.  Fled ! "  says  another  voice 
from  the  other  side,  which  Henry  Ellis  has  heard 
before  from  the  lips  of  Joe  Stajiles. 

"Glorious  Calhoun!"  from  the  far  end  of  the 
room. 

"At  my  post!" 

"Hoi  Bobbins,  known  as  Catfish  Robbins, 
exempt  on  account  of  sickness.  Very  seditious 
in  language,  disajipeared .'"  The  voice  is  evi- 
dently  disguised.      "His   boy,    Hark,    actually 


fought  for  his  master — soon  settled  hhn,"  the 
speaker  adds,  in  a  lower  tone  for  the  informa- 
tion of  his  near  neighbors.  But,  after  this,  name 
after  name  is  called  out,  now  from  one  side  and 
now  from  the  other  side  of  the  darkness,  with 
comment  like  the  above.  Then  there  is  called 
one  name  more  which  makes  most  sensation  of 
all. 

"Parson  Arthur!" 

"Make  charge!"  from  the  presiding  officer. 

"Opjjosed  to  Secession  from  the  first,  and 
persists  in  his  crime.  Silent  but  influential  for 
the  Union." 

"Business  proposed!"  from  the  Glorious  Cal- 
houn. 

"I  move  he  be  regularly  warned  to  leave:" 
the  speaker  carefully  disguises  his  voice,  but  is 
loud  and  dogged.  Whereupon  rises  a  hubbub 
over  the  whole  hall,  some  urging  with  violence, 
some  opposing  the  suggestion.  One  voice  has 
at  last  obtained  the  mastery ;  it  would  seem  in 
the  darkness  as  if  its  owner  had  mounted  upon 
his  seat. 

"I  tell  you,  fellows,  you'd  better  not;  by 
George,  no !  No  man  can  regret  the  ])arson's 
course  more'n  I  do ;  but  that  man  has  buried  too 
many  of  our  dead,  nursed  too  many  of  our  sick, 
married  too  many  of  our  couples  for  that !  I 
^in't  a  Christian,  but  I  know  one  when  I  sec 
one,  and  precious  few  they  are.  Parson  Arthur 
is  7iot  favorable  to  the  Confederacy,  I  know,  but 
you  all  know  he  is  a  Christian,  a  Christian  gen- 
tleman. We  can't  afford  it,  fellows;  and,  by 
George,  we  won't !" 

"  One  word  more,  gentlemen" — another  voice 
from  the  darkness — "I'm  Henry  Ellis,  you  may 
know  that  by  my  crutches,  there  !"  and  a  double 
knock  is  heard  upon  the  floor.  "  You  all  know 
I  have  been  fighting  for  the  South  in  Virginia. 
Well,  for  one,  the  man  that  disturbs  Mr.  Arthur, 
unless  he  breaks  some  law,  has  me  to  disturb 
too.     I  say  no  more !" 

A  vote  is  taken.  According  to  the  Ritual  of 
the  C.  C.  on  any  thing  moved  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Confederacy  the  vote  is  South  instead  of 
ay,  and  North  instead  of  nay.  On  this  occa- 
sion a  voice  in  the  darkness,  evidently  the  orig- 
inal proposer  of  the  motion  to  rid  Somcrville  of 
Mr.  Arthur — a  thing  often  before  done  by  the 
C.  C.  in  the  case  of  other  obnoxious  individuals, 
and  which  has  landed  said  individuals  in  a  clime 
exceedingly  unlike  Somcrville  and  very  far  above 
it,  or  in  still  another  place  not  so  greatly  unlike 
Somcrville  though  below  it — on  this  occasion,  we 
say,  the  original  voice  votes  South,  with  an  em- 
phasis which  makes  up  for  its  being  the  only 
vote  to  that  eflfect.  Most  of  the  C.  C.  do  not 
vote  at  all ;  but  enough  vote  North,  and  with 
emphasis  of  their  own,  too,  to  decide  the  ques- 
tion fbr  INIr.  Arthur's  further  stay  in  Somcrville. 
Let  it  be  distinctly  recorded  here  that  we  do  not 
assert  the  first-named  vote  to  have  been  given 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


159 


by  the  ratiiarch  Abraham  ;  for  the  sake  of  sweet 
Si.  Charity  let  the  matter  at  least  remain  in 
doubt. 

This  matter  being  disposed  of: 

" Glorious Callioun  !"from  the  darkness, which, 
like  that  of  Ejivpt,  is  both  intense  and  swarming 
with  angry  spirits. 

"At  my  post!" 

»'  Mr.  Ferguson."  Wo  all  know  Joe  Staples's 
voice. 

"Make  charge." 

"Against  the  revolution  from  the  first.  Bit- 
terly against  it  still.  Won't  toudi  Confederate 
money.  Won't  give  the  least  belief  to  any  good 
news.     Always  says  it's  a  lie." 

Joe  Staples,  who  is  deeply  in  debt  to  Mr. 
Ferguson,  has  never  probably  read  Sallnst,  and 
imitates  unconsciously  those  of  whom  that  his- 
torian records  that  they  joined  the  consj)ir:icy 
of  Catiline  to  get  rid  of  their  indebtedness. 
Not  Staples  only,  no  more  eager  Secessionists 
in  all  the  South  and  from  the  outset,  and  a  little 
before,  than  those  owing  heavily,  especially  to 
Northern  creditors.     But — 

"  He  ridicules  all  the  good  news,"  adds  an- 
other voice. 

"  And  pastes  it  all  in  a  big  book,"  contributes 
a  third  from  the  darkness. 

"  And  won't  give  one  single  cent  toward  the 
war,"  adds  a  fourth. 

"A  cross-grained  old  Abolitionist,  heart  and 
soul  against  us!"  cries  still  another. 

"  Business  proposed !"  from  the  chair  as  soon 
as  the  Glorious  Calhoun  can  make  himself  heard. 

"  Frighten  out  of  his  boots !" 

"And  to-night,  rifjht  away!" 

"Those  in  favor  will  say  South  I"  Over- 
whelming vote. 

"Those  opposed  will  say  North  !" 

"  North" — only  one  voice,  llcmy  Ellis.  "One 
word,  men,"  he  adds.  "You  all  know  I  have 
fought,  will  fight  as  long  as  I  can  pull  a  trigger 
for  the  South ;  but  only  on  the  open  field,  and 
where  I  can  see.  I  resign."  And  the  speaker 
is  hobbling  on  his  crutches  toward  the  door  as 
well  as  he  can  guess  at  it. 

"Children  of  Calhoun,"  says  Dr.  Peel, 
promptly. 

"At  our  posts !"  from  the  members,  evidently 
part  of  the  Kitual. 

"  Because,  not  fighting  for  the  South  in  the 
field,  we  must  work  for  it  at  home!"  In  full 
chorus,  after  Dr.  Peel. 

"Well,  it's  a  sort  of  work  I  won't  do  for  one. 
And  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  just  this.  I  find 
here  among  all  you  stay-at-homes  a  sort  of  fe- 
rocity, a  kind  of  devilish  bitterness  there  isn't 
the  least  spark  of  in  the  army,  and  you  know 
whether  it  fights  or  not.  You  must  excuse  me, 
your  secrets  are  safe  with  me,  Init  I  am  gone ;" 
and  a  stumble  and  slam  announces  that  the 
speaker  has  managed  to  find  the  door  and  leave 


— those  nearest  the  door  not  unconscious  that 
several  seem  to  be  leaving  with  him. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  but  from  that  night  the 
C.  C,  notwithstanding  the  immense  ammint  of 
work  yet  to  be  done,  and  the  appalling  oaths 
binding  upon  the  organization  to  do  it,  steadily 
wanes  to  extinction.  In  vain  Brother  Barker 
especially  exerts  himself;  for  by  his  powerful  ap- 
peals,  not  without  tears,  ho  has  brought  about, 
from  outside,  such  an  alteration  as  admits  him 
and  Mr.  Neely  and  others  of  Northern  birth.  It 
may  be  the  very  violence  of  these  hastens  its  end. 
Even  the  dullest  Secessionist  knows  that  Union 
men  have  been  initiated,  at  least  men  who  were 
once  Union,  and  that  these  have  been  fijremost 
in  ultra  propositions  therein.  The  sincere  Seces- 
sionist sees  afterward  how  these  Union  men  thus 
kept  the  proceedings  of  the  C.  C.  fully  known  to 
all  their  own  kind  outside,  and,  also,  by  putting 
on  too  much  steam  from  within  hastened  the  ex- 
plosion. But  the  genuine,  sincere.  Southern-born 
Secessionists  did  the  Northern-born  members  of 
the  C.  C.  great  injustice  when  they  afterward 
charged  the  same  treachery  upon  these. 

"For  one,  gentlemen,  I  am  firmly  persuaded," 
said  Captain  Simmons,  afterward,  "  that  there 
was  not  a  Yankee  Secessionist  in  all  the  South, 
whoever  he  was,  and  whatever  he  said  or  did  as 
editor,  private,  general,  quarter-master,  mere 
citizen,  or  what  not,  but  went  into  Secession, 
and  acted,  as  he  did  during  it  with  the  full  though 
secret  determination  thereby  to  defeat  Secession 
and  overthrow  Slavery.  In  fact,  gentlemen,"  con- 
tinued Captain  Simmons,  with  a  firm  grasj)  upon 
the  pillar  of  the  porch  in  front  of  Staples's  Hotel, 
peculiarly  dignified  because  particularly  drunk : 
"  I  have  become  fully  satisfied  that  Secession  was 
got  up  and.  carried  through  by  Yankees,  South 
and  North,  expressly  to  procure  the  destruction 
of  Slavery  and  the  triumph  of  the  North  over  the 
South.  Hypocrites,  gentlemen,  every  soul  of 
them.  Their  bended  eyes  salute  the  skies,  their 
lifted  knees  the  ground,  as  the  hymn  has  it ;  ab- 
horrence of  such  was  among  the  deepest  senti- 
ments instilled  into  me  by  j)arents  now  saints  in 
heaven,  where  one  day  I  hope  to  rejoin  them. 
This  whole  thing  has  convinced  my  mind,  gen- 
tlemen," adds  the  Captain,  with  a  wave  of  his 
left  hand,  "being  a  Southern-born  man  myself 
I  am  none  the  less  free  to  say  it,  that  the  Yan- 
kees are  what  they  claim  to  be — the  smartest 
people  on  this  jilanet.  None  the  less  does  my 
soul  loathe  them ;  to  the  last  degree  are  they 
offensive  to  mc." 

AVhether  any  of  said  Yankees  who  afterward 
claimed  any  thing  of  all  this  for  themselves  in- 
dividually sjiake  truth  or  not  who  can  say?  Oh 
if  we  could  but  read  the  heart !  Alas  !  he  who 
pens  these  lines  can  not  read  his  own.  J^nougli 
for  us  that  He  who  has  the  final  settlement  of 
all  things  can. 

"  Secret  and  Special  Committee  of  Three  will 


160 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


meet  here  to-morrow  night  at  twelve.  Be  vigi- 
lant, Children  of  Calhoun,  much  and  great  work 
remains  to  be  done."  This  from  the  chair,  after 
the  candles  have  been  again  lighted. 

"  France,  what  from  you  ?"  The  editor,  Lam- 
um,  who  is  thus  addressed,  sitting  in  his  place 
under  that  flag,  is  silent. 

"  England,  what  from  you  ?"  Jem  Budd,  gun- 
smith, seated  opposite  France,  under  the  Cross 
of  St.  George,  is  compelled,  by  the  painful  facts 
of  the  case,  to  remain  silent. 

"Ourselves, "says  Dr.  Peel,  with  enthusiasm, 
rising  from  his  seat  broad  and  jeweled  as  mid- 
night, "what  from  us?" 

"  Ilappuhannock !"  prompt  and  loud  from  the 
whole  C.  C. 

A  fervent  prayer  from  Brother  Barker  in  clos- 
ing, as  there  had  been  one  from  the  same  source 
in  opening,  and,  with  certain  mystical  signs  gone 
through,  the  C.  C.  adjourn.  A  Federal  Flag 
being  first  spread  before  the  door,  each  of  the 
C.  C.  in  passing  out  tramples  it  underfoot,  stamp- 
ing and  grinding  their  heels  and  spitting  upon 
it  in  a  manner  in  strict  conformity  with  the  Rit- 
ual and  the  feelings  of — some  of  tliem.  Only  let 
it  here  be  written  that  the  faculty  of  dissembling 
in  some  men,  and  during  some  epochs,  is  vigor- 
ous beyond  all  estimation. 

"  Oh  yes,  do  what  you  please  to  old  Ferguson  !" 
is  heard  in  the  noise  of  departure.  "We  are  at 
war,  by  George  !  We've  got  into  this  muss,  and 
all  we've  got  to  do  is  to  figlit  out  of  it  if  we  can. 
But  not  Parson  Arthur,  by  George  !  not  the  par 
son — " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

It  is  not  long  after  the  adjournment  of  the 
C.  C.  that  Mr.  Ferguson,  seated  in  his  room 
reading  the  well-worn  little  Bible  whicii,  while 
yet  a  youth,  he  brought  over,  a  genuine  frag- 
ment of  Scotland,  with  him,  preparatory  to  go- 
ing to  bed,  hears  a  noise  as  of  the  gathering  of 
a  crowd  beneath  his  windows. 

It  is  the  upper  room  of  a  large  stone  building 
which  he  had  built,  by  far  the  most  substantial 
edifice  in  Somerville,  to  rent  as  a  store.  And 
it  had  brought  Mr.  Ferguson  in  a  good  rent  un- 
til Secession  closed  it  up,  as  it  had  closed  up  al- 
most the  whole  legitimate  business  of  the  South. 
"The  temporary  inconvenience,"  Colonel  Ret 
Roberts  remarks  in  his  public  and  private  speech- 
es, "  which  precedes  independence  and  unparal- 
leled ]irosperity ;  and  he  who  bewails  it  is,"  adds 
the  Colonel,  coming  down  upon  the  stand  with 
clenched  fist,  "either  a  fool  or  a  Union  man  and 
a  traitor !" 

Very  true,  of  course  ;  yet  it  will  sadden  one. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  vast  tracts  devastated  by 
actual  war,  the  appearance  of  the  country  far 
from  such  scenes  is  mournful.    Fields,  as  you 


WR.  FEKGUSON   Ari'EAES   AT   HIS   WINDOW. 

ride  along,  with  broken-down  fences,  and  acres 
wholly  given  up  to  sunflowers  and  cockleburs.  or 
making  but  faint  fight  against  them.     Nor  did 
you  ever  before  see  white  girls  so  young  carrying 
water,  or  boys  so  very  small  driving  oxen,  or  fe- 
males, not  African,  cutting  wood  and  hoeing. 
The  desolation  looks  worst  in  the  little  towns 
through  which  you  pass.     The  homes  are  there 
still,  but  in  painful  need  of  glass  and  palings  and 
paint.     The  shops  are  all  still  there,  but  almost 
all  shut  up — no  sound  from  within  of  hammer, 
plane,  or  saw.     Nor  have  the  oflSces  emigrated ; 
they  are  all  there  still,  with  their  rusty  signs 
of  lawyer  or  doctor;  but  the  lawyer,  generally 
speaking,  is  colonel  now,  speculator,  or  quarter- 
master ;  while  the  doctor  is  killing  more  rapidly 
than  before  in  the  ranks,  or  practicing  wholesale 
surgery  in  the  distant  hospitals.     And  the  stores 
remain,  but  mostly  shut  up,  their  enteqjrising 
proprietors  gone  into  battle,  or,  most  likely,  into 
cotton.     The  shut-up  doors  and  windows  of  the 
towns  may,  like  the  closed  mouths  and  eyes  of 
those  in  a  swoon,  be  only  temporary;  but  it  looks, 
all  the  circulation  stopped,  very  much  like  death. 
Not  that  there  is  not  in  every  village  at  least  one 
shop,    store,  grocery,  gathering-point  of  some 
sort   left,   whereat  clusters   together  the  whole 
male  population  on  the  arrival  of  the  stage,  to 
get  the  papers  and  to  hear  the  much  more  di- 
versified and  thrilling  news  brought  by  the  pas- 
sengers.    An  hour  is  spent  by  the  neighbors  so 
assembled  in  anticipating  what  the  stage  will, 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


161 


and  should,  nnd  "has  to"  bring  before  it  drives 
up ;  then  two  houre,  after  it  has  gone,  in  dis- 
cussing what  it  actually  does  supply  them.  Bless- 
ings on  these,  the  mass,  the  more  virtuous  and 
industrious  portion  of  the  people,  the  country,  in 
fact,  yes,  Heaven  abundantly  bless  these,  even 
though  it  be  in  ways  they  dream  not  of!  But 
upon  the  leaders — editors,  military  magnates, 
political  preachers  must  of  all — upon  these  rest 
the  justice  of  Almighty  God! 

But  Mr.  Ferguson.  He  listens  a  wliile  to  the 
noise  growing  louder  beneath  liis  windows,  then 
kneels  for  his  evening  devotion,  remaining  per- 
haps longer  upon  his  knees  than  usual.  Rising 
at  last,  he  listens  and  considers.  All  the  doors 
and  windows  of  the  building,  for  fire-proof  pur- 
poses, are  coated  with  sheet-iron  and  securely 
fastened.  Tiie  truth  is,  Mr.  Ferguson  has  long 
calculated  the  possibility  of  an  attack,  and  is 
not  unprepared.  He  glances  at  his  iron  safe — 
yes,  his  Scrap-book,  to  say  nothing  of  other  val- 
uables, is  secured  therein,  and  the  Scotchman 
deliberately  hides  the  key  in  a  crevice  to  which 
he  has  called  the  attention  of  Mr.  Arthur  long 
before.  As  the  noise  below  increases  into  groans 
and  yells  he  coolly  produces  from  their  hiding- 
jilaces  and  lays  upon  the  table,  »?leared  of  every 
thing  for  the  purpose,  two  of  Sharjj's  rifles,  a 
pair  of  revolvers,  a  claymore  brought  from  Scot- 
land ;  the  two  Derringers  he  secures  about  his 
person,  with  the  handles  ready  to  his  hand. 

"Twelve  and  twelve,"  he  says  aloud  of  the 
provision  on  the  table  for  his  coming  guests, 
"are  twenty-four;  two  in  my  pockets,  twenty- 
six  ;  claymore  at  least  one  to  that — say  thirty  in 
all."  And  so  he  snuffs  the  candle,  takes  his 
seat,  and  listens.  Yes,  it  is  the  night  of  the  C.  C. 
— he  remembers  that.  But  tlicn  it  may  prove  a 
false  alarm. 

He  listens.  Yells,  oaths,  blows  upon  the  door, 
cries  for  ladders  and  axes.  Not  the  C.  C.  only  ; 
there  is  a  Camp  of  Instruction  some  dozen  miles 
from  town,  and  stray  soldiers  tlierefrom  drop  in 
to  take  a  hand — good  practice  for  actual  war. 

"Oh,  nobody's  going  to  kill  the  man;  only 
going  to  give  him  a  good  scare,"  is  the  remark 
made  to  Dr.  Warner,  who,  plucking  himself  out 
of  the  coils  of  his  wife  wound  about  him  in  night- 
gown and  hysterics,  has  come  down  to  see  what 
is  afoot,  and  that  physician  is  tossed  off  from  the 
crowd  like  a  straw;  and  while  he  catches  des- 
perately at  the  attention  of  this  and  that  indi- 
ndnal,  meditating  a  stump  speech  in  defense  of 
his  friend,  the  tumnlt  increases  until  he  is  fairly 
drowned  and  washed  away. 

"Now,  then,  what  do  you  want?"  hails  the 
Scotchman,  who  has  raised  a  sash,  opened  the 
leaf  of  a  shutter,  and  looked  out. 

The  pressing  necessities  of  the  mob  thus  ap- 
pealed to  are  various. 

"  A  hundred  dollars  for  the  soldiers  I" 

"In  gold,  old  boss,  mind  !" 


"And  holler  hurrah  for  Jeff  Davis!" 

"And  down  with  old  Lincoln!" 

"Promise  you  will  leave  in  twelve  hours." 

"And  never  come  back."  It  is  Joe  Staples 
this  last ;  it  will  be  several  thousand  clear  gain 
to  him  if  the  Scotchman  complies  or  is  killed. 
And  thereupon  follows  a  jierfect  storm  of  sug- 
gestions from  the  many-headed.  The  Scotch- 
man waits  patiently  till  lie  can  be  heard. 

"Men!"  he  begins,  at  last. 

"  Stand  firm,  mon  !"  shouts  a  powerful  voice 
from  over  the  way;  and  it  is  followed  almost 
instantly  after  by  the  awful  blasphemies  of  Dr. 
Peel,  in  the  centre  of  the  crowd,  upon  the  man 
who  said  it. 

"Men!"  continues  the  besieged,  "you  arc 
half  of  you  deranged,  the  other  half  drunk. 
On  that  account  I  don't  want  to  kill  you.  Do 
what  you  please.  Only  put  my  life  in  danger, 
however,  and  I  will  kill  some  of  you.  Howl 
away!" 

And  the  Scotchman  draws  in  his  head,  closes 
and  fastens  the  shutter,  lowers  the  sash.  Not 
an  instant  too  soon,  for  the  missiles  rattle  upon 
it  like  hail. 

Considering  within  himself,  the  Scotchman 
drags  a  large  desk  so  as  to  fortify  himself  in  a 
corner  commanding  windows  and  door,  upon 
which  he  disposes  in  easy  reach  his  weapons, 
having  first  carefully  examined  the  caps  of  his 
fire-arms  and  unsheathed  his  claymore. 

"Y''es,  I  maun  not  forget  it,"  he  says,  relaps- 
ing for  a  moment  into  a  dialect  the  very  burr 
of  which  has  almost  worn  from  his  tongue ;  and 
taking  the  key  from  its  crevice  over  the  mantle, 
he  unlocks  the  safe,  takes  out  a  written  paper, 
dates  and  signs  it,  with  a  line  under  in  explana- 
tion. 

"It's  not  as  regular  as  a  mon  can  wish,  but 
it's  the  best  a  mon  can  do.  Ah,  yes!"  And  he 
lugs  out  his  ponderous  collection,  writes  a  rapid 
bulletin  of  matters  up  to  date  of  siege,  pastes  it 
from  his  mucilage  apparatus  and  with  the  dex- 
terity of  long  practice  in  its  place  in  the  vol- 
ume, and  replaces  it  and  the  paper  in  the  safe, 
relocks  it,  puts  the  key  in  its  place,  and  is  com- 
fortable once  more. 

"What  fules  men  are  about  their  Wills,"  he 
says  as  he  takes  his  place  behind  his  abatis, 
"and  I  as  great  as  any,"  he  growls. 

Meanwhile  the  uproar  without  is  enough  to 
appall  the  stoutest  heart.  If  yells  and  curses 
could  have  beaten  down  walls  it  would  have  been 
"  all  over"  with  Mr,  Ferguson.     What  next  ? 

Towering  on  the  horse-block  in  front  of  the 
store.  Dr.  Peel,  with  terrific  profanity,  announces 
to  the  C.  C.  present  that,  having  splendidly  ac- 
complished their  project  of  frightening  the  old 
scamp,  the  next  thing  is  to  adjourn  in  quest  of 
drinks. 

Bnt  Alonzo  Wright,  being  already  supplied 
on  that  point,  most  strenuously  objects,  his  thirst 


1R2 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


is  now  for  blood.  "  Our  own  boj-s  far  away  to- 
night," he  shouts  from  the  horse-block,  "  fight- 
ing for  us,  pouring  out  their  blood  in  rivers. 
And  here  in  this  house  is  an  insolent  old  scoun- 
drel worse  than  the  worst  of  Yankees.  It  is  time 
to  make  example  of  these  Union  men,  sneaking 
scoundrels,  traitors,  abolitionists,"  and  a  deal 
more  to  the  same  effect.  Furious  curses,  ardent 
appeals,  passionate  entreaties — there  is  splendid 
eloquence  in  the  raving  of  the  man,  and  the  au- 
dience are  in  the  mood  to  appreciate  it.  In  fact 
Joe  Staples  is  making  a  free  thing  of  it  at  the 
I)ar  of  his  hotel  near  by,  is  even  pressing  his 
liquors  upon  all  who  come  in  perjjctual  relays 
from  the  crowd  and  back  again.  The  cx-tailor 
sees  a  chance  of  his  making  the  hapi)iest  liit  of 
his  life  ;  he  even  dispatches  a  negro  with  a  dem- 
ijohn down  to  the  crowd. 

"Axes,  men,  axes,  and  our  cry  to-night  is 
Rappahannock  !"  And  the  speaker  springs  from 
his  rostrum  among  an  excited  crowd  of  kindred 
spirits.  Some  little  time  is  spent  in  obtaining 
axes,  those  near  by  having  unaccountably  been 
mislaid.  Next,  it  is  slow  work  trying  to  peel  the 
iron  sheeting  off  the  stout  doors,  especially  in  the 
rush  of  the  crowd,  each  thinking  he  can  do  it 
better  than  the  other,  Dr.  Peel  as  active  among 
them  as  Alonzo  Wright. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Ferguson  within  ponders  his 
course:  "Had  I  not  better  fire  on  them  from 
above  ?  If  they  get  those  doors  down  they'll  be 
upon  me  in  such  numbers — wait  on  the  Lord  till 
the  last  moment  before  you  take  to  your  pistols. 
God  forgive  mc,  I  have  been  too  cross  with  these 
poor  demented  bodies  all  along !  Too  close  in 
business  matters,  mon.  Not  meet  to  be  partaker 
of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in —  It  is  good," 
he  continues  to  murmur  to  himself,  "both  to 
hope  and" — arranging  the  weapons  to  his  hand 
— "  quietly  to  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord. 
Forgive  my  contempt  for  these  fules,  Lord,  but 
Thou  seest  they  are  such  fules." 

The  blows  rain  fast  and  heav}-  on  the  doors. 
Stop  !  They  must  have  given  up  the  axes,  and 
are  now  using  a  ram  of  timber.  The  Scotchman 
has  known  of  too  many  similar  atrocities,  has 
dozens  of  them  in  printed  form  and  written  in 
his  Scrap-book,  not  to  know,  specially  since  he 
has  heard  Alonzo  Wright  among  the  crowd,  that 
his  own  death  is  about  as  much  a  speedy  cer- 
tainty as  any  thing  human  can  be.  The  flaxen 
hair,  the  blue  eyes,  the  bonny  smile — it  seems 
nearer,  clearer  to  Mr.  Ferguson  than  for  many 
a  long  year  now.  Heaven  !  But  unfortunately 
he  can  not  think  of  heaven  without  a  grim  re- 
membrance of  the  Secession  of  angels  therefrom, 
and  the  fate  of  said  angelic  Secessionists,  too. 
Pity  the  one  great  gulf  should  swallow  us  all  up 
so  completely  these  days. 

But  the  bells  ?  What  can  they  be  ringing  the 
bells  so  for  ?  That  begins  to  be  an  inquiiy  among 
the  excited  mob,  pausing  a  little  to  listen  and  ask. 


Fire !  An  illumination  upon  the  sky,  dark 
shadows  beginning  to  fall  from  the  houses  that 
way  across  the  street.  Fire!  fire!  And  falling 
u])on  the  excitement  before  Mr.  Ferguson's  doors, 
as  when  the  sun  shines  on  the  hearth-stone,  the 
greater  glow  extinguishes  the  less.  Fire  !  fire! 
fire !  And  even  Alonzo  Wright,  disabled  some 
time  ago  by  an  accidental  blow  upon  the  shoul- 
der from  the  axe  of  Dr.  Peel  in  tlu;  intense  en- 
ergy of  the  Doctor,  after  cursing  for  a  time  the 
rapidly-diminishing  crowd,  is  compelled  to  limp 
after  it.  In  little  more  time  than  it  has  taken  to 
record  it  the  assault  on  Mr.  Ferguson  has  begun 
and  ended. 

"  Dr.  Ginnis's  !  Dr.  Ginnis's !"  is  the  cry  into 
which  that  of  fire  has  now  subsided. 

"Dr.  Ginnis?"    Then,  as  we  too  hurry  on  to 
the  spot,  one  word  about  him ;  it  can  soon  be 
said,  before  we've   gone  more  than  a  square. 
Low  of  stature,  stout  of  frame,  red  of  face,  puffy 
of  breath,  loud  of  tongue,  excitable  of  temper- 
ament, "Secession  from  the  start,"  of  course. 
From  the  outset  it  is  with  pain  that  Dr.  Ginnis 
tears  himself  from  the  knot  at  the  street-corner  to 
visit  a  patient.     He  is  hardly  in  the  sick  cham- 
ber before  the  topic  is  introduced.     As  soon  as 
possible  the  comj)laints  and  the  prescrijition  for 
the  patient  arc  got  through  with  as  an  altogether 
secondary  matter,  that  the  Doctor  may  get  to 
European  dependence  on  the  South,  the  sover- 
eignty of  cotton,  the  Scrij)turality  of  slavery,  the 
religious  apostasy  and  hastening  downfall  of  the 
North,  the  untold  blessings  Secession  is  to  pour 
from  its  cornucojjia  upon  our  glorious  Confeder- 
acy, and  all  the  last  great  Confederate  victory, 
too,  roars  over  again  with  all  its  cannon  in  the 
ears  of  the  stunned  patient.     The  Doctor  is  en- 
thusiastic, as  even  his  political  friends  allow. 
Secession  has  taken  possession  of  every  globule 
of  his  blood,  fold  of  his  brain,  holds  as  a  rider 
does  the  reins  every  fibre  and  tendon  of  the  Doc- 
tor's gibbous  person.     A  big  bubble,  Dr.  Ginnis, 
oscillating  wonderfully  when  the  wind  blows  as 
it  often  does,  glittering  in  the  sunshine  of  good 
news.    It  does  ]\Ir.  Ellis  good  to  see  and  hear  him. 
"Glory  be  to  God!"  he  shouts,  clapping  his 
hands  together,  snatching  his  hat  from  his  heat- 
ed forehead,  and  waving  it  with  enthusiasm. 
Then  off  like  a  shot,  a  large  one,  from  the  Post- 
office  to  spread  the  tidings  whenever  wonderful 
news  arrives,  as  it  does  almost  every  mail. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?"'  he  cries  to  peo- 
ple on  foot  across  the  street,  on  horseback,  in 
carriage,  whom  he  sees  as  he  goes,  never  waiting 
till  he  can  get  near  enough  to  see  whether  they 
be  acquaintances  or  not.  "  Glorious  news !  Yan- 
kees cut  to  pieces  again !  fifty  thousand  killed !" 
Not  apt  to  be  up  early  as  a  general  thing  him- 
self, no  man  before  Dr.  Ginnis  when  the  stage  is 
to  get  in  before  day.  "Wake  up,  all  of  you!" 
he  shouts  at  the  doors  of  the  houses  as  he  re- 
turns home  with  the  great  intelligence.     "Wake 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


168 


up!"  banging  tremendously  on  tlie  gates  and 
doors.  "Great  news!  Louisville  captured  !  Cin- 
cinnati l)unieil !  Washington  City  in  our  hands! 
hurrah!  Wake  up!  (J lory  be  to  God!"  And 
the  Doctor  hurries  on  to  stir  up  the  rest,  making 
great  billows  in  his  wake,  literally  icak-e  ! 

"Twenty-seven  regiments  bayoneted  where 
they  stood ;  cut  down  and  cut  to  pieces ;  the  car- 
nage tremendous !"  And  Dr.  Ginnis  has  a  j)ecu- 
liar  way  of  drawing  his  coat-sleeves  u])  his  arms, 
turning  down  the  curt's  of  his  exposed  shirt-sleeves, 
as  lie  says  it,  and  nu)ving  his  inoutli  and  eyes  as  if 
he  was  about  taking  part  therein  himself,  unctuous 
to  behold.  Being  a  member  of  Brother  Barker's 
church,  no  man,  not  even  Sam  I'eters  nor  Broth- 
er Barker  himself,  more  fervent  in  prayer  than 
Dr.  Ginnis — only  he  begins  too  violently,  runs 
in  fifteen  minutes  into  hoarseness,  and  ends  in 
wheeze.  There  is  this  slight  inconsistency  in 
Dr.  Ginnis.  At  the  very  outset  of  Secession,  in 
indignant  denial  of  the  jiossibility  of  war  result- 
ing from  the  same,  he  had  loudly  and  frequently 
promised  contemjituously  to  drink  every  drop  of 
blood  that  might  be  shed. 

"If  you  will  turn  to  Psalm  fifty-fifth,  fifteen, 
yon  will  see  that  David  said  exactly  the  same 
thing,  'Let  death  seize  upon  them,  and  let  them 
go  down  quick  into  hell,' "  remarks  Brother 
Barker  when  informed  that  Dr.  Ginnis  had 
been  distinctly  heard  to  say  "Damn  him!"  in 
reference  to  Butler  in  New  Orleans.  "You 
will  hardly  deny  that  David  was  a  holy  man. 
And  these  are  most  extraordinary  times.  We 
can  not  judge  men  by  the  rules  of  ordinary 
times;  it  would  be  foolish  as  well  as  useless 
to  do  so,"  reasons  the  divine.  Nor  was  he  the 
only  professed  Christian  who  used  the  same 
reasoning  in  reference  to  the  intoxication  of 
leading  members  of  the  church,  even  chaplains 
in  the  army,  on  rejoicings  over  victories.  In 
fact,  it  was  said  of  Brother  Barker,  and  of 
many  others  like  him,  that,  not  content  with 
supi)licating  yellow-fever  and  death  in  every 
form,  as  well  as  that  in  battle,  upon  the  infidel 
foe,  he  and  others  luid  prayed  for  something  that 
sounded  mar^'elously  like  an  eternal  damnation 
of  the  same  foe.  Let  any  one  who  retains  to- 
day clear  recollections  of  what  passed  during 
the  great  delirium  say,  was  this  actually  so  or 
was  it  not  ? 

Turning  a  comer  on  our  hurried  way  from 
Mr.  Ferguson's  we  find  it  is  Dr.  Ginnis's  house 
that  is  on  fire.  Upon  the  whole,  the  handsomest 
two-story  residence  in  Somcrvillc,  handsomely 
furnished,  the  Doctor  has  not  occupied  it  more 
than  a  year.  And  the  Doctor  is  movec^as  never 
the  most  glorious  news  had  ever  moved  him  be- 
fore. Consequently  the  wheeze  is  upon  him  al- 
most from  the  first.  He  stands  now  near  the 
fast-consuming  remnant  of  his  home,  stunned, 
silent,  in  utter  collapse.  For  there  is  this  pecu- 
liarity about  Dr.  Ginnis,  that  he  is  as  much  af- 


fected l)y  bad  news  as  by  good,  the  elation  pro- 
duced by  the  last  being  fully  cciualed  by  the  de- 
gree of  depression  produced  liy  the  first — accord- 
ing to  the  inexorable  law  of  mechanics  whcrebj* 
action  and  reaction  are  equal.  Hence  it  is  that 
while  we  good  Secessionists  rather  like  falling  in 
with  Dr.  Ginnis  when  good  news  is  afloat — we 
couldn't  avoid  doing  that,  as  the  Doctor  then 
pervades  evciy  nook  and  corner  of  Somcrvillc — 
we  would  rather  not  fall  in  with  him  when  the 
news  is  bad.  In  this  last  case,  to  do  the  Doctor 
justice,  we  are  not  apt  to,  however,  as  he  stays 
pretty  closely  at  home  then,  if  possible. 

But  Dr.  Ginnis  is  not  needed  at  the  fire  at  all. 
Dr.  Peel  has  arrived  on  the  spot  among  the  first, 
and  has  been  hard  at  work  from  the  moment  he 
arrived.  Truth  is,  Dr.  Peel,  by  sheer  force  of 
the  man,  has  come  to  be  tlie  life  and  soul  of 
Somerville  long  before  this ;  no  jmblic  dinner, 
no  war-meeting  to  receive  from  or  dismiss  to  the 
war  any  distinguished  personage  or  personage 
going  to  become  distinguished,  no  ball  or  tab- 
leaux, no  public  enterprise,  of  which  Dr.  Peel  is 
not  the  grand  carrier-on  as  well  as  the  originator. 
We  have  come  even  to  accept  the  essences,  jew- 
elry, broadcloth,  and  boasting  of  the  man  in 
consideration  of  his  imdoubted  patriotism  and 
princely  liberality  of  feeling  and  of  funds.  It 
has  got  to  be  generally  believed  that  Dr.  Peel 
and  Anne  Wright  arc  engaged  to  be  married, 
and  Alonzo  Wright  has  risen  a  hundredfold  in 
IHiblic  consideration,  to  say  nothing  of  Anne, 
frail  in  form,  fair,  gentle,  and  doul)ly  lovable  in 
appearance  from  her  contrast  to  magnificent  and 
swarthy  Dr.  Peel  as  she  hangs  upon  his  arm  or 
stands  by  him  in  the  dance  in  i)ulj]ic  assemblies. 
And  Dr.  Peel  sustains  his  well-earned  repu- 
tation for  public  spirit  and  energy  now  at  the 
fire.  lie  has  rushed  a  dozen  times  into  the 
house,  and  returned  bearing  wardrobes,  bureaus, 
and  the  like,  beyond  the  strength  of  other  men. 
Tearing  off  weather-boarding  to  get  at  the  flames ; 
on  the  top  of  the  stable  endeavoring  to  save  it; 
here,  there,  every  where ;  men  running  hither 
and  thither  like  children  at  his  command ;  his 
hat  gone  in  the  confusion ;  moving  in  the  heat 
as  in  his  native  element,  no  man  there  refuses  to 
feel  him  to  be  the  hero  of  the  hour,  Agamem- 
non, king  of  men.  But  even  Dr.  Peel  can  not 
work  miracles.  When  morning  breaks  it  is  upon 
the  chimneys  only  and  a  few  charred  timbers, 
upon  a  bed  of  ashes,  the  bones,  as  it  were,  of  the 
once  living  home,  from  which  life  and  flesh  are 
gone.  All  that  is  left  is  for  Dr.  Peel  to  start  a 
subscription  list,  before  he  has  washed  his  hands 
for  breakfast,  in  Dr.  Ginnis's  behalf,  heading  it 
with  a  handsome  amount,  and  canvassing  the 
entire  community  with  it  before  night. 

In  his  heavy  loss  Dr.  Ginnis  accepts  the  as- 
sistance with  gratitude,  but  adds  to  Dr.  Peel : 
"A  thousand  thanks.  Dr.  Peel,  for  all  your  no- 
ble aid ;  but  if  you  could  only  help  me  to  prove 


164 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


it  was  the  work  of  an  incendiary,  even  if  we  did 
not  know  whom,  and  couldn't  catch  him — just  to 
know  that  certainly  would  be  a  great  satisfaction 
to  me!" 

He  does  not  say  it,  but  to  have  it  known  that 
his  house  had  been  selected  out  of  all  others  in 
Somerville  as  that  of  the  most  prominent  patriot 
there  for  destruction,  would  have  gone  far  to 
console  the  Doctor. 

"That  was  my  full  belief  at  first,"  says  Dr. 
Peel,  with  oaths,  "  until  I  happened  upon  that 
pipe  I  showed  you  lying  near  the  stable  among 
the  straw.  Some  careless  old  negro  woman. 
If  I  was  you  I  would  examine  into  it ;  and  if  I 
was  to  know  that  any  negro  of  wine  had  lost  inc 
so  splendid  a  property — "  And  the  friend  de- 
scribes, with  awful  profanity,  the  vengeance  he 
would  inflict. 

And  ;\Ir.  Ferguson  ?  It  is  full  compensation 
to  him  for  the  insults  of  the  night  that  it  has,  at 
least,  yielded  hira  one  of  the  most  interesting 
pages  for  his  collection.  With  more  than  the 
neatness,  precision,  blue  ink,  red  ink,  and  black, 
with  which  he  keeps  his  own  land  and  other  ac- 
counts does  he  prepare  the  bulletin  for  posterity, 
date,  events,  results  in  full. 

The  second  day  after  the  fire  Dr.  Peel  rides 
out  to  see  Alonzo  Wright.  No  man  could  make 
a  handsomer  apology  for  having  accidentally 
lamed  his  friend's  shoulder,  which  is  badly  hurt. 

"I  was  opposed  to  going  on  at  first,  you  will 
remember.  General  Wright.  I  only  wanted  to 
frighten  the  old  scamp.  But  I  got  excited  by 
your  elocjuence ;  it  would  sweep  away  a  stone. 
When  I  got  hold  of  that  axe  I  "was  in  such  a 
desperate  hurry,  too,  to  get  at  the  fellow — " 

"Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,"  interrupts  Mr. 
Wright.  "I  am  sorry  for  that  man  Ginnis,  of 
course,  but  I  am  very  glad  the  fire  happened  just 
as  it  did.  When  I  am  drunk  I  am  a  perfect 
fool,  rather  a  devil  incarnate.  If  any  thing  had 
happened  to  that  brave  old  man  I  could  never 
have  forgiven  myself.  What  an  old  Trojan  he 
is !  I  will  make  a  point  to  speak  to  him  the  next 
time  I  see  him  on  the  streets.  It  was  the  same 
way  with  Mr.  Arthur.  I  made  myself  a  perfect 
blackguard  with  him  once — you  may  have  heard 
of  it — at  the  old  gin.  He  will  bear  me  witness 
I  went  in  next  day  and  apologized.  I've  told 
Anne  here  nobody  ties  the  knot  if  she  ever  mar- 
ries but  that  man,  if  only  he  was  not  an  Abo- 
litionist, or  Union  man,  which  is  the  same 
thing.  True  as  steel  he  is,  for  all  he  is  so  quiet. 
But  let  us  talk  about  Buniside,  anj'  thing.  I 
made  a  fool  of  myself  that  night  in  Somerville, 
am  ashamed  of  it,  and  have  made  Anne  a  half 
promise  never  to  go.  to  the  place  any  more." 
This,  with  a  good  many  strong  expressions  be- 
tween, from  Mr.  Wright  sober,  a  person  bearing 
no  resemblance  to  Mr.  Wright  drunk. 

So  Dr.  Peel,  taking  another  cup  of  the  coffee 
— "the  genuine  article,  Doctor;  no  rye,  barley, 


okra,  sweet-potatoes,  or  other  trash  in  it" — of 
Miss  Anne's  making  and  another  slice  of  Miss 
Anne's  sponge-cake — only  blondes  like  Anne 
can  ever  make  real  sponge-cake ;  brunettes  suc- 
ceed in  pound,  preserves,  and  the  like,  not  in 
sponge — Dr.  Peel,  we  say,  changes  the  topic  to 
our  bright  prospects  now  of  speedy  success.  At 
which  point,  Colonel  Juggins  having  ridden  over 
to  trade  certain  oxen  with  Mr.  Wright,  Dr.  Peel 
is  left  to  be  entertained  by  Miss  Anne. 

Petite  Anne!  A  canary-bird  is  small,  we 
know,  never  so  small  as  when  in  contiast  with 
an  eagle.  Very  quiet  is  Anne ;  low-spoken,  too. 
Blushes  also  coming  and  going  on  causeless  er- 
rands to  and  from  heart  and  check.  No  one 
plays  better  on  the  piano — not  concert  music,  you 
know,  but  exactly  the  kind  for  a  parlor.  Anne 
sings,  too,  as  a  canary-bird  ever  should,  and 
very  sweetly  ;  not  the  operatic  style  either,  yell, 
squall,  inarticulate ;  you  are  not  deafened  by 
Anne,  and  can  make  out  as  distinctly  every  syl- 
lable she  sings  as  if  she  spoke  it.  Dr.  Peel  stand- 
ing behind  her,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  her 
music  as  she  plays,  joining  in  with  his  splendid 
voice,  stooping  to  say  tliis  and  the  other  nothing 
in  his  lowest  modulations. 

"I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late!"  she  says,  with 
an  instant  thrill  at  the  impropriety  of  saying  so 
with  such  simplicity,  when,  at  last,  Dr.  Peel 
sees  by  his  massy  gold  watch  that  it  is  time  for 
hira  to  go.  Mr.  Wright,  done  with  Colonel  Jug- 
gins by  this  time,  urges  his  guest  to  stay  to  tea. 
Dr.  Peel  would  do  so  with  great  pleasure,  he 
could  ride  in  to  town  by  moonlight,  only  he  has 
"  an  appointment  to  keep." 

"With  some  fair  lady,  I'll  bet,"  says  Mr. 
Wright,  good-naturedly,  as  he  shakes  the  Doc- 
tor's hand  on  parting. 

"  Wrong  this  time,  General — not  with  a  lady," 
replies  Dr.  Peel,  Anne's  little  hand  in  his  as  he 
bids  good-by. 

No,  not  with  a  lady.  As  the  Doctor  nears 
the  corner  of  a  fence,  about  a  mile  from  Somer- 
ville, he  draws  rein  to  speak  with  a  particularly 
ill-visaged  negro  man,  evidently  waiting  for  him 
there.  Protruding  chin,  with  beard  jn  little 
knots  upon  it  here  and  there ;  retreating  fore- 
head ;  coarse  wool  tied  up  in  pig-tails,  stick- 
ing up  in  every  direction  from  his  head ;  squalid 
clothing ;  long,  ape-like  arms ;  big,  flat  feet — a 
savage.  In  all  New  Zealand  none  more  so.  Not 
a  more  thorough  savage  that  hour  in  the  Africa 
from  which  the  man's  great-grandfather  came, 
save  that  here  Jem  is  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere 
of  civilization,  the  chief  ingredient  gas  of  which 
for  his  breathing  is — force.  And  Jem  has  lost 
his  ancestral  Fetich,  the  Christianity  he  has  in 
exchange  being  too  undefined  for  him  at  least 
to  put  in  words  if  questioned.  Not  that  there 
are  not  thoroughly  pious  negroes  at  the  South  ; 
there  are  many  thousands  of  them — a  larger 
proportion  of  them  pious,  perhaps,  than  of  the 


INSIDE.— A  CIIHONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


105 


De.  peel   and   JEM. 


wliites,  only  Jem  was  not  one  of  them.  Yet, 
sad  to  say,  when  Jem  has  any  special  villainy 
to  engage  in  the  nepro  in  Somerville  of  all  oth- 
ers whom  he  is  sure  to  call  upon  to  assist  him 
therein  is  Orange,  a  preacher,  a  very  Brother 


Barker  for  sinping  and  praying  among  the 
Macks.  Beyond  this  there  is  not,  of  course,  the 
least  parallel  between  the  two  preachers.  Only, 
the  remark  may,  with  great  deference  to  every 
body,  be  made,  that,  if  Brother  Barker's  Scrip- 


166 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ture  views  of  Slavery  prompted  him  to  his  most 
violent  courses,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  it 
was  the  Kev.  Orange's  views,  too,  of  Slavery 
from  the  Bible — read,  doubtless,  upside  down — 
which  prompted  him  to  his  most  objectionable 
courses ;  his  evil  courses  being,  however,  all 
underground.  So  very  sly  is  Orange  that  it  is 
hard  to  speak  certainly;  yet,  if  the  fact  was 
known,  it  is  rather  Orange  who  employs  Jem  in 
deeds  of  darkness  than  Jem  who  employs  Orange. 
Just  now  both  arc  in  the  hands  of  a  greater 
than  either. 

"Splendidly  done,  Jem;  you  couldn't  have 
done  it  better,"  says  Dr.  Peel  to  Jem  standing 
before  him.  Great  contrast  between  the  broad- 
clothed,  bejeweled,  perfumed,  highly-educated, 
perfectly-accomplished,  and  powerfully-influen- 
tial Dr.  Peel  and  the  savage  beside  him !  Civili- 
zation and  Barbarism  embodied  and  in  strongest 
contrast?  Apparently.  Only  there  is  not  an- 
other white  man  in  Somerville  to  whom  Jem 
does  not  take  off  his  hat  when  he  speaks  to  him, 
but  the  relic  of  a  head-covering  remains  un- 
touched on  Jem's  head  now,  though  no  man  can 
express  in  word  and  manner  greater  respect, 
even  affection,  for  a  companion. 

"On'y  Orange  an'  me,"  he  says. 

"I  told  you  boys  before  I  don't  think  it  is  safe 
the  money  should  be  in  your  hands ;  you  are  sure 
to  let  it  out,"  begins  Dr.  Peel,  taking  a  canvas 
bag,  apparently  quite  heavy,  from  his  bosom. 

"  Me  an'  Orange  think  so  too,  on'y  we  is  out 
of  tobacco.  A  few  dollars  for  our  women-folks, 
too,"  pleads  the  savage  as  humbly  as  a  child. 

"Very  well,  certainly,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  replac- 
ing the  bag  in  his  bosom,  and  giving  the  man  a 
few  coins  of  gold  from  his  purse.  "You  may 
have  that  over  and  above,  and  welcome.  The 
rest  any  day  it  is  safe  for  you.  You  and  Orange 
can't  be  too  careful,  remember,  Jem.  You  know 
how  to  get  it  to  me  if  you  hear  any  thing.  When 
I  need  you  boys  I'll  let  you  know." 

But  what  would  have  struck  an  eves-dropper  in 
all  this  interview  most  was  the  singular  bearing 
of  these  two  very  different  villains  to  each  oth- 
er. It  can  not  be  expressed  in  words,  but  it 
was  very  singular — very  singular  indeed. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

There  is  a  certain  manner — the  nautical 
name  for  which  the  writer  has  clean  forgotten, 
though  he  assures  the  reader  he  once  knew  it — 
by  which  a  vessel  is  advanced  upon  its  way  when 
steam  or  tide  or  wind  fail  it.  Its  anchor,  with 
a  stout  cable  attached,  is  carried  forward  in  one 
of  the  ship's  boats  and  hooked  on  to  some  rock 
or  iceberg  ahead,  the  other  end  of  the  hawser 
being  fastened  to  the  capstan  on  board.  With 
many  a  heave-ho  the  crew  then  ply  their  strength. 


I  as  in  a  slow  whirlwind,  around  the  capstan  un- 
til they  and  their  vessel  are  drawn  to  the  an- 
'  chor.     The  anchor  is  then  again  borne  forward, 
and  so  the  operation  continued  as  long  as  may 
be  necessary. 

And  in  the  same  way  we  will  l)ear  the  anchor 
of  this  our  bark  ahead,  and  grapple  it  with  this 
first  day  of  March,  1865,  and  endeavor  to — yes, 
warp,  that  is  the  word — warp  ourselves  up  to 
that  j)oint ;  for,  though  all  the  world  else  moves, 
Somerville  has  seemed  sorely  to  lack,  so  far  as 
advance  is  concerned,  of  steam  and  tide — not 
of  wind,  only  it  has  been  perpetually  shifting. 

Great  events  have  befallen  since  Dr.  Ginnis's 
house  was  burned — many  of  them. 

Vicksburg.  The  Somerville  Slar  had  ac- 
knowledged, after  the  fall  of  New  Orleans,  that 
the  Mississi]!])!  River,  Fort  Pillow  and  Memphis 
having  fallen,  was  open  along  its  whole  length 
to  Federal  navigation.  Only  a  few  days  after 
its  article  in  proof  that  this,  so  far  from  being 
an  advantage,  would  be,  like  the  capture  of  New 
Orleans,  a  ])Ositive  disadvantage  to  the  Feder- 
als, Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson  are  known  to 
have  suddenly  arrested  the  navigation  of  the 
river,  at  which,  with  singular  inconsistency,  the 
Star  greatly  rejoices.  Then  follows  the  long 
story — oh,  how  long  and  weary  in  the  slow  tell- 
ing ! — of  the  assault  upon  Vicksburg  and  the  re- 
j)ulse.  Tiie  ejjisodical  cai)ture  of  Arkansas  Post, 
though  Somerville  has  accounts  for  weeks  after 
that  event  of  the  escape  on  their  way  up  the 
river,  and  their  march  across  Tennessee  to  join 
Bragg,  of  the  prisoners  there  taken.  Next  comes 
the  wearisome  digging  of  the  famous  canal,  and 
its  failure,  proving  that  hydraulics  and  hydro- 
graphy are  greatly  neglected  parts  of  civil  en- 
gineering as  taught  at  West  Point.  Great  re- 
joicing in  Somerville  over  that.  Then  comes 
Grant's  desperate  march  around  and  regular  in- 
vestment of  Vicksburg,  at  which  also  Somerville 
greatly  rejoices. 

"With  Johnston  in  front  of  him,  and  Pem- 
berton  in  his  rear  cutting  off  his  escape  to  the 
river,  we  regard  the  annihilation  or  capture  of 
Grant's  entire  army  as  a  positive  certainty," 
says  the  Somerville  Star  for  weeks.  "As  to 
starving  out  Vicksburg,  we  hap{)en  to  know  it  to 
be  victualed  for  a  two  years'  siege." 

Then  follow  tidings  of  the  fall  of  Vicksburg. 
This  is  scouted  with  scorn.  For  weeks  after,  it 
is  amazing  how  many  gentlemen  arrive,  not  in 
Somerville,  but  in  its  immediate  neighborhood, 
who  "are  known  to  have  left  Vicksburg  on  the 
tenth  or  fifteenth  of  July,  the  place  not  having 
fallen  then,  nor  having  the  least  intention  so  to 
do." 

Even  when  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson  are 
known  to  be  captured — "  We  see  only  cause  of 
congratulation  in  it,"  says  the  Somerville  Star. 
"  First,  because  of  the  tremendous  loss — one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  is  the  lowest  estimate — 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


167 


of  the  Federals  in  cnptuiing  those  points;  sec- 
ond, because  it  will  occupy  a  large  part  of  their 
army  to  {jarrison  these  places;  third,  in  tiiat 
guerrilla  bands  will  as  ell'ectually  prevent  the 
navigation  of  the  river  as  before  !" 

Yes,  there  is  the  singular  fact.  We  Secession- 
ists may  attach  infinite  importance  to  an  Object, 
may  wait  in  most  intense  an.xiety  to  know  the 
result  in  regard  to  it,  deny  the  cajiture  of  it  in- 
dignantly fur  weeks  after  it  has  fallen,  yet  the 
instant  it  is  known  to  be  imdoubtedly  gone  we 
care  no  more  for  it,  wonder  we  should  ever  have 
interested  oursdf  so  much  in  New  Orleans, 
Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson,  Chattanooga,  At- 
lanta, Savannah,  "Mobile,  whatever  the  object  is 
in  its  turn ;  can  even  see  now,  are  astonished 
wo  did  not  see  it  before,  that  the  loss  of  each 
such  i)lace  is  on  even,-  account  rather  an  advant- 
age than  a  disadvantage  to  us.  Not  merely  in 
words  only  or  in  editorials — to  some  degree  act- 
ually in  heart  it  is  so !  No  doubt  there  is,  with 
the  occurrence  of  each  disaster  to  the  Confed- 
erate arms,  a  secret  undermining  going  on  in 
the  understanding  and  heart  of  each  even  of  the 
most  rabid  Secessionists,  but  it  is  unacknowl- 
edged at  this  period  even  to  themselves.  In 
exactly  the  same  way,  Dr.  Ginnis,  swelling  and 
bursting  to-day  with  some  wonderful  news  of 
Foreign  Intervention,  Confederate  Victory,  and 
the  like,  abandons  it  to-morrow  when  it  is  known 
to  be  false,  not  only  without  much  regret,  but 
scarcely  remembering  even  that  he  ever  heard, 
much  less  believed,  in  any  thing  of  the  kind. 

"  But  who,"  says  Mr.  Ferguson,  "can  reirson 
in  regard  to  lunacy,  or  analyze  infatuation? 
There  is  something  even  awful  in  it,"  he  adds; 
"a  supernatural  folly  at  which. I  shudder,  as  at 
the  direct  doing  of  Jehovah." 

At  which  point  Mr.  Arthur  corrects  his  friend 
by  drawing  distinction  between  the  positive  and 
the  permissive  providence  of  Heaven — a  distinc- 
tion lost  upon  the  Scotchman,  who  quotes  the 
case  of  Pharaoh  and  the  children  of  Israel  to  a 
frightful  degree  in  these  days.' 

But  even  while  we  are  scouting  the  lying  ru- 
mors of  the  fall  of  Vicksburg  all  Somerville  is 
electrified  by  tidings  of  the  glorious  victories  of 
General  Lee  in  Pennsylvania.  Tiie  bells  can 
not  ring  enough  after  the  dispersion  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania militia  and  the  capture  of  forty  thousand 
prisoners  at  Gettysburg.  Brother  Barker  has 
been  entrapped  by  false  news  so  often  by  this 
time  that  he  is  far  from  being  as  credulous  as  of 
yore,  yet,  "Do  you  imagine  General  Lee  would 
have  crossed  the  Potomac  if  he  did  not  know 
.what  he  was  about?  Believe  it;  yes,  brethren, 
with  all  my  soul  I"  For  who  can  resist,  if  it  was 
only  the  big  bell  of  his  own  church,  to  which  lit- 
tle Joe  Staples  clings,  with  brief  relays  for  re- 
freshment, for  hours  at  a  time?  And  so,  when 
he  can  have  the  bell  stop  long  enough  for  him 
to  be  heard  in  special  prayer,  as  on  Sabbath, 


Brother  Barker  leaves  all  doubt  in  regard  to  his 
patriotism  far  behind. 

It  was  a  singular  coincidence  that  Orange, 
plowing  in  his  master's  field,  and  Jem  at  work 
with  his  axe  in  the  woods  near  Somerville,  both 
pauseil  from  their  labors  at  the  first  sound  of  the 
bells  with  about  the  same  exclamation  upon  their 
lips. 

"  Dar's  bad  news  for  mcf 

They,  and,  of  their  colored  friends,  not  they 
alone,  had  made  about  the  same  remark  once  or 
twice  before  at  the  sound  of  distant  explosions, 
taking  them  to  be  cannon  for  victory.  These 
reports,  however,  had  turned  out  to  be  only  the 
blowing  up — quite  a  common  incident — accident- 
ally, of  powder-mills  and  all  therein — no  mistake 
about  the  bells,  however. 

Not  that,  returning  to  Mr.  Barker,  his  has  been 
an  altogether  unruffled  course.  Like  other  em- 
inent confessors  in  all  ages  he  has  had  his  trou- 
bles also.  Many,  among  the  best  of  his  church, 
have  long  ceased  to  attend  thereat.  There  is 
Mrs.  Juggins. 

"  No,  Brother  Barker,  I  can't  do  it.  It  was 
had  enough  to  see  you,  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel 
of  peace,  marchin'  along,  as  I  see  you  that  day 
in  Somerville,  with  a  gun  on  your  shoulder, 
member  of  a  company,  practicing,  too,  with  them 
at  a  mark,  I'm  told !  But  for  a  disciple  of  the 
blessed  Jesus  to  preach  and  pray  as  you  do  is 
more'n  I  can  stejid.  Not  only  it  is  nothin'  but 
politics,  politics  all  the  time  with  you  in  the  pul- 
pit and  out  of  it — .  .  nt,  then,  you're 
fiercer  than  Staples  or  Lamuui,  actually  blood- 
thirsty an'  bitter.  God,  He  knows  I  love  my 
country.  I  gave  Tom  for  it,  didn't  I  ?  Please 
God,  I  hope  the  Yankees  may  be  whipped  back 
where  they  come  from.  If  they  ain't,  it  won't  be 
for  want  of  prayin'  for  it  here  South  !" 

"All  the  Union  people  have  ceased  to  come 
to  church  long  ago,  and  to  support  the  ministry," 
begins  her  spiritual  leader. 

"  Can't  help  it.  Brother,"  says  Mrs.  Juggins, 
firmly ;  "  the  Colonel  and  I  is  getting  old  ;  since 
Tom  was  killed,  too,  I've  seen  things  difTrent. 
The  Confederacy  gaining  its  independence  is  a 
great  thing,  I  dare  say;  but  religion  here,  the 
reachin'  a  better  world  after  this,  is  a  better  thing 
still.  Dare  say  you  have  no  idea  how  you've 
stopped  preaching  and  px-aying  any  thing  but  the 
Confederacy.  And  look  at  it.  The  Sabbath- 
school  there  in  Somerville  is  broken  up,  they  tell 
me.  Except  on  some  grand  political  occasion, 
they  say  you've  only  a  handful  to  hear  you.  Then 
you  know  better'n  I  how  many  of  the  very  pillars 
of  our  church,  ministers  even,  some  of  them, 
has  taken  to  drinkin',  cursin',  andswearin',  swin- 
dling, and  all  manner  of  wickedness.  As  to  sin- 
ners, they  are  farther  off  than  ever;  and  who's 
to  blame?" 

Yes,  Brother  Barker  has  a  hard  time  of  it  as 
well  as  Mr.  Arthur.    Somehow  his  salary  is  very 


168 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


slow  in  being  paid,  what  little  is  promised,  the 
reliance  he  placed  upon  his  Secessionist  admirers 
in  this  matter  being  exceedingly  mistaken  ;  ready 
enough  they  are  to  crowd  his  churcli  on  every 
political  occasion  to  hear,  and  to  inflame  and 
inflate  by  their  presence  the  violence  of,  sermons 
and  prayers  for  the  South. 

"If  the  Almighty  does  not  give  victory  to  Gen- 
eral Lee  in  this  his  march  ujjon  our  wicked  foes, 
the  very  angels  of  heaven  will  be  ready  to  revolt," 
he  had  remarked  one  Sabbath  morning  in  a  ser- 
mon. Who  could  say  more  than  that  ?  Yet  the 
subscription  paper  circulated  the  very  day  after 
on  his  behalf  was  far  from  as  successful  as  it 
should  have  been.  "We  all  greatly  admire,  es- 
teem, approve  Brother  Barker's  course — no  man 
in  all  Somerville  more  patriotic  and  useful  than 
he — j'ct  the  war  has  cut  our  means  down  so,  and 
we  have  really  so  very  many  calls  every  week 
connected  with  the  war,  that  we  can  not  say  at 
this  moment  what  we  can  give,  Brother  ;  we  will 
think  upon  it,  however,  and  let  you  know." 

"No,  Sir,  you  must  excuse  me,"  Captain  Sim- 
mons remarked  when  applied  to.  "True,  I  was 
early  instructed  to  worship  in  the  sanctuary,  and 
I  could  at  this  moment  repeat  to  you,  sing  to 
you  to  its  own  tune,  the  hymn  '  Away,  away ; 
away,  away,  away  to  Sabbath-school.'  True,  I 
do  drop  in  to  hear  the  parson  when  he  gives  us 
a  red-hot  sermon,  prayers,  and  all  the  trim- 
mings, on  the  times.  But  I  can  not  disguise  the 
fact  that  he  is  a — Yankee.  My  soul  revolts  at  a 
Yankee  and — j'ou  must  excuse  me." 

There  was  the  shameful  way,  also,  in  which 
Brother  Barker  was  treated  on  his  last  visit  to 
the  Pines.  The  preacher  is  exceedingly  averse 
to  speaking  of  it,  but  it  seems  a  camp  of  soldiers 
stationed  there  have  varied  their  monotonous 
routine  of  slaughtering  such  fi\t  beeves,  and  steal- 
ing such  poultry  and  honey  as  they  can  lay  hands 
upon,  by  insulting,  hustling,  throwing  clods  at 
Brother  Barker  on  his  last  appointment.  Not 
on  Union  principles  at  all — from  sheer  contempt 
of  a  religion  which  has  ceased  to  awe  them  in 
reference  to  things  spiritual  in  its  superhuman 
exertions  to  instruct  and  excite  them  in  reference 
to  the  Confederacy. 

Very  slowly,  indeed,  the  truth  comes  out  in  re- 
gard to  the  Gettysburg  affair.  Somerville  has 
placed  all  its  hopes  on  a  long  succession  of  he- 
roes, dropping  them  in  turn  as  easily  as  it  has 
done  great  cities ;  for  the  time,  even  General 
Lee  lies  shattered  on  the  earth  from  his  pedestal. 
The  ebb  and  flow  of  feeling  during  these  days 
among  Secessionists  and  Union  people — the  one 
class  being  in  the  trough  exactly  at  the  instant 
the  other  is  on  the  crest  of  the  sea — who  can 
describe ! 

Neither  can  be  described  the  intense  eagerness 
of  Mr.  Arthur,  Dr.  Warner,  I\Ir.  Ferguson,  and 
all  other  Union  people — it  is  amazing  how  many 
of  them  are  left  tn  Somerville  still — for  Federal 


papers.  Colonel  Guy  Brooks,  not  a  written  line 
from  him  since  he  left,  contrives  to  get  papers 
to  friends  in  Somerville.  Isaac  Smith,  painter, 
too,  little  he  cared  for  literature  of  any  sort,  still 
less  his  big  and  butter-making  wife;  now  the  zeal 
with  which  Isaac  Smith,  from  within  the  Fed- 
eral lines,  pours  in  letters  and  papers  \\\>on  his 
wife  is  wonderful.  Mrs.  Smith's  little  parlor 
sees,  and  sees  very  often  too,  visitors  it  never 
dreamed  of  before.  Let  fat  Mrs.  Smith  get  a 
package  as  large  as  your  hand  at  night — and  her 
mails  almost  invariably  arrived  at  that  period — 
before  noon  to-morrow  she  had  a  dozen  aj)])lica- 
tions  from  friends  to  know  the  news.  And  a 
great  deal  of  news  Isaac  Smith  managed  to 
smuggle  in  ;  oftly,  alas !  Isaac,  from  long  use  per- 
haps of  his  brush,  gave  too  much — so  little  prov- 
ing to  be  true.  For,  let  the  truthful  record  be 
made,  we  Union  people  in  Somerville  are  al- 
most as  credulous  in  regard  to  the  news  we  wish 
to  be  true  as  are  the  Secessionists — not  quite, 
but  almost. 

But,  ah,  the  eagerness  with  which  we  clutch 
a  paper  from  the  North  I  We  get  it  as  a  great 
favor,  to  be  read  as  rapidly  as  possible,  to  be 
returned  exactly  at  such  an  hour  to  such  a  place. 
We  button  it  uj)  in  our  breast-pocket,  and  burn- 
home,  for  we  dare  not  be  seen  with  it  on  the 
streets.  Arrived  at  home,  we  aiTCSt  all  the 
household  work,  turn  the  children  ignominious- 
ly  out  of  the  room  with  terrible  threats  in  case 
they  come  in  again,  which,  by-the-by,  they  are 
sure  to  do  a  dozen  times  during  the  reading  on 
pressing  emergencies  which  can  not  be  postponed 
a  moment ;  and  so  we  carefully  unfold  and  read 
the  precious  paper  aloud  to  wife  or  sister,  to  say 
nothing  of  all  the  Union  people  in  the  neighbor- 
hood cautiously  summoned  in  to  hear.  The 
editorials,  dispatches,  items,  advertisements  of 
hair  oil,  and  the  like — with  greedy  hunger  we 
let  no  morsel  or  crumb  of  the  paper  escape  us. 
In  spite  of  all  the  effort  we  made,  a  dozen  readers 
or  two  have  had  the  document  before  us,  as  doz- 
ens will,  eagerly  wondering  why  we  can  not  re- 
member that  others  want  the  paper  as  well  as 
ourselves  and  get  through  with  it  after  us.  In 
consequence  of  this,  the  paper  is  painfully  il- 
legible at  the  folds ;  we  have,  in  the  centre  of 
the  most  interesting  articles,  to  stop  and  puzzle 
around  the  chasms,  often  to  take  a  flying  leap 
over  them  and  proceed.  The  little  scraps  of 
patriotic  poetry,  here  and  there,  we  often  mem- 
orize even.  And  so  the  paper  circulates  till  it 
is  read,  literally  read,  to  shreds. 

There  was  Everett's  speech  at  the  Dedication 
at  Gettysburg.  Could  the  orator  have  imagined 
the  zest  with  which  his  words  there  spoken  would 
have  been  read  from  soiled  and  worn-out  sheets 
by  thousands  at  the  South  his  soul  would  have 
burned  with  sublimer  enthusiasm  than  any  wak- 
ened in  liim  by  the  audience  then  visible  to  his 
eye.     Who  of  us  forgets  the  keen  enjoyment 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


IGO 


with  which  wo  read  our  first  fuiry  talcs  in  child- 
hood's sweet  hour — not  so  keen,  so  delicious  that 
gratification  as  the  readin^^;,  during  the  war,  of 
all  thoroughly  American  matter  oozing  in  to  us, 
parched  with  thirst,  from  ahroad.  The  circula- 
tion through  Sonicrvilleof  oneguod  jjuperof  the 
kind  did  all  the  Union  people — for  if  one  indi- 
vidual thereof  read  it,  every  soul  did  or  had  it  re- 
peated to  him — evident  good  fur  weeks  to  come. 
Perhaps  the  shortness  of  the  allowance — as  with 
food  doled  out  to  the  wrecked  at  sea — increased 
its  value,  months  often  elapsing  between  the  ra- 
tions. Let  us  keep  secret  the  absolute  faith  even 
Mr.  Ferguson  i)laced  in  the  least  assertions  of  a 
Northern  i)aper,  his  belief  herein  as  absolute  and 
sweeping  as  was  his  unbelief  in  reference  to  the 
Somerville  Star  and  all  its  kind.  And,  as  men 
build  a  mural  tablet  into  the  wall  of  an  edifice 
with  due  inscription,  permit  the  insertion  here 
of  this  profound  truth,  that  in  very  much  every 
sense  of  the  word  liunian  nature  at  the  North 
and  the  South  is  exactly  the  same ;  with  super- 
ficial dift'erences  we  are  at  last  One  people. 

The  fall  of  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson  and 
the  victory  at  Gettysburg  send  the  Union  peojjle 
of  Somerville  quite  up  upon  the  crest  of  the  ever- 
rolling  sea,  and — IStr.  Ellis,  Dr.  Ginnis,  lowest 
of  all — the  Secessionists  down  into  the  trough 
thereof  for  months  to  eome. 

'•I  tell  you,  Lamum,"  Dr.  Peel  says  to  the 
editor  of  the  Somerville  Star,  toiling  away  cold, 
pale,  steady  as  ever  in  his  business  of  lying  by 
power-press,  ever  consistent  in  falsehood  what- 
ever news  Bill  Perkins  brings  in  his  budget — "I 
tell  you,  man,  one  screw  loose  in  the  machinery 
of  the  Confederate  Government  is  the  way  the 
Post-oflice  is  managed.  What  avails  all  you 
say  in  your  paper  so  long  as  there  is  a  perpetual 
stream  of  private  letters  coming  in  to  the  con- 
trary ?  Federal  papers,  too,  these  Union  people 
are  constantly  getting  them ;  letters,  also,  from 
friends  in  the  Federal  lines — such  things  provi- 
sion them,  so  to  speak,  to  hold  out.  If  a  few 
more  of  them  could  be  hanged — !" 

But  this  last  romedv  has  been  so  thoronchlv 
tried — not  actually  in  Somerville,  as  yet,  but  all 
around  it.  There  was  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith's  broth- 
er, John  Jennings.  Who  did  not  know  him? 
Gray-headed  with  fifty  years  of  farming — farm- 
ing with  his  own  hard  hands  alone  these  days, 
his  boys  being  in  the  Confederate  sen'iee,  and 
ho  owning  no  negroes. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Arthur,"  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith 
says  to  that  individual,  who  hurries  to  see  her — 
is  she  not  a  member  of  his  church  ? — on  hearing 
of  the  catastrophe,  "they  knew  John  was  a 
Union  man.  He  tried  to  help  its  being  known, 
but  he  couldn't.  Not  that  he  said  any  thing. 
He  made  a  point  to  stay  close  at  home — never 
opened  his  lips.  But  he  was  my  brother,  you 
know,  and  my  husband  being  gone  that  was 
enough.    Every  once  in  a  while  he'd  come  down 


from  his  place — fifteen  miles,  you  know,  it  is  from 
here — to  bring  mo  a  little  butter,  or  cheese,  or 
wheat,  whatever  happened  he  could  sjjare.  Ever 
since  Jim  Boldin  waylaid  and  shot  down  his  own 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Tanner — they  do  say  Mrs. 
Tanner,  his  sister,  who  is  a  bitter  Secessionist, 
actually  put  her  brother  Jim  u]>  to  it — ever  since 
Tanner  was  found  lying  dead  in  the  road  with  a 
ball  through  his  head  for  being  a  Union  man, 
John  has  been  careful  as  a  man  could  be.  Let- 
ters from  Isaac !  How  could  John  get  letters 
from  Isaac  ?  As  God  hears  me,  Sir,  John 
never  saw  one  that  I  didn't  show  him.  But 
you've  heard  the  story ;  I  have  no  heart  to  tell 
it,  hardened  as  Pm  getting  to  almost  any  thing. 
A  party  of  a  dozen  of  them  broke  into  his  house 
at  midnight :  said  to  his  daughters,  poor  things ! 
screaming  around,  they  only  wanted  to  take  him 
to  Somerville  to  bo  conscripted.  Sarah,  the 
eldest,  knew  better;  she  clung  to  him  till  they 
tore  her  oflf',  some  of  them  holding  her  to  the 
wall  while  they  tied  John's  hands.  As  they 
was  dragging  him  out,  Sarah  she  begged  and 
screamed  only  to  be  let  give  him — her  gray-head- 
ed old  father — one  last  kiss ;  they  wouldn't  let 
her  do  even  that,  the  man  holding  her  saying 
things —  Can  you  make  yourself  believe.  Sir, 
that  such  a  thing  can  be  true  in  this  Christian 
land  ?"  says  Mrs.  Smitli,  speaking  more  slowly, 
exhausted  with  weeping  till  not  a  tear  is  left, 
emotion  itself  worn  out  from  exercise  so  intense 
and  so  long.  "  Sarah  here  in  the  next  room 
could  tell  you  herself.  They  dragged  that  un- 
offending old  man — lived  fifteen  years  in  the 
neighborhood — out  of  his  house,  mounted  their 
horses,  and  rode  off  at  full  speed,  holding  the  end 
of  the  rope.  Of  course  when  he  couldn't  run  he 
was  dragged.  Sarah"  tracked  him  next  day  by 
the  bits  of  his  clothes  on  the  brush  till  she  lost 
the  trail  over  the  rocks.  No  one  but  her,  and 
she  not  twelve  years  old,  near  night  she  finds 
her  father  at  last.  They  had  hung  him  by  the 
neck  from  a  blackjack.  God  knows  whether  it 
was  because  they  intended  it,  or  because  they 
did  not  know  how  to  tie  the  rope  so  as  to  stran- 
gle, but  he  was  warm  yet  when  she  came  upon 
him.  He  had  been  hanging  there  in  struggle 
and  agony  full  fifteen  hours.  Sarah  she  had 
never  thought  to  bring  a  knife — just  think  if  you 
can  of  that  poor  young  thing  working  there — " 

But  here  there  is  loud  crying  from  the  next 
room  of  the  little  house — Sarah  has  been  wak- 
ened from  her  slumber  of  exhaustion  by  her 
aunt,  who  has  forgotten  in  her  excitement  that 
her  niece  is  asleep  there. 

"We  must  get  used  to  it,  man  ;  like  things, 
in  all  varieties  of  hellish  wickedness,  are  taking 
place  every  hour,"  says  Mr.  Ferguson,  to  whom 
Mr.  Arthur  has  been  telling  the  story.  "The 
National  Government  will  not  or  can  not  help 
us.  For  His  own  wise  purpose  the  Almighty  is 
leaving  us  to  ourselves." 


170 


INSIDE.— A  CIlIiONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"  But  to  mc  the  strangest  part  of  the  infatua- 
tion of  these  men  around  us,"  says  Mr.  Arthur, 
walking  the  floor  of  Mr.  Ferguson's  room  like  a 
caged  leopard,  "is  that  they  do  not  seem  to  un- 
derstand exactly  where  Dr.  Warner  and  you 
and  I  and  all  other  Union  men  of  Somerville — 
and  I  know  of  more  and  mure  of  them  every 
day — actually  stand.  Do  you  suppose  Mr.  Ellis, 
Captain  Simmons,  Bob  Withei-s,  Ginnis,  the 
Lamums,  and  the  rest  know  that  there  is  not  an 
individual  at  the  North,  in  the  Federal  army,  in 
the  Cabinet  at  Washington — not  Lincoln  him- 
self more  thoroughly,  utterly,  absolutely — " 

"Sh-sh-sh,  man,  not  so  loud!"  says  cautious 
Jlr.  Ferguson. 

"And  expect  mc  actually  to  pray  for  the  suc- 
cess— " 

"We  must  beware  of  becoming  too  excited. 
It  is  our  duty  to  exercise  the  patience  and  meek- 
ness of  the  Gospel,"  remonstrates  the  Scotchman 
at  some  length,  whose  feelings  never  assume  the 
form  of  wrath,  only  of  intense  bitterness  and  con- 
tempt. "  Beware  of  becoming  a  Brother  Bark- 
er, only  on  the  opposite  side,"  adds  this  grizzled 
mentor. 

And  it  strikes  this  Telemachus  that  night, 
ruminating,  Testament  in  hand,  in  liis  room  at 
Mrs.  Sorel's,  that  he  is  sliding  down  into  a  con- 
dition to  be  alarmed  at.  He  blames  Mr.  Bark- 
er, Mr.  Ellis,  and  the  rest  —  for  what?  For 
leaving  the  Gospel  and  the  moderation  of  the 
Gospel  behind  them ;  for  ceasing  to  have  main 
reference  to  things  spiritual,  and  becoming  far 
too  intensely  interested  in  things  of  this  world. 
Wonder  if  I  am  not  doing  the  very  same  thing? 
he  thinks.  If  they  are  too  excited  for  what  they 
call  their  country,  am  not  I  for  what  I  regard  as 
mine  ?  True,  theirs  is  a  wicked  rebellion  ;  my 
interest  is  in  my  country,  in  which  is  involved 
civilization,  freedom,  the  Gospel  itself —  And 
all  he  can  conclude  is  to  set  more  vigorous  watch 
npon  his  heart,  out  of  which  are  all  intemper- 
ate deeds,  words,  thoughts,  feelings — the  issues 
of  life.  For  grace  to  do  which  he  prays  there 
and  then.  Only  there  is  the  same  sense  of  ex- 
haustion in  prayer  that  there  is  in  reading  the 
Scripture  and  in  preaching.  Leading  the  life 
of  a  pariah  with  most  in  Somerville  every  day, 
so  little  encouragement,  every  emotion  in  such 
perpetual  and  intense  play — thought,  forever  on 
the  strain — insufficiency  of  actual  labor  to  give 
relief — exhaustion. 

And  Alice  ?  If  she  was  a  thousand  miles  away 
now !  God  forbid — she  is  all  of  hope  he  has. 
Yet,  like  the  Princess  of  Fairy  Tale,  alive  to  her 
lover  in  all  her  charms,  yet  inclosed  beyond  any 
thing  but  mere  sight  in  adamantine  crvstal. 

Oh  yes,  yes,  of  course,  the  writer  knows  all 
that  fully  as  well  as  the  reader;  but  ilr.  Arthur, 
though  he  ought  to  have  done  so,  doubtless  did 
not.  It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for  you 
to  say  how  you  would  have  gone  boldly  to  her 


like  a  man  ;  how  you  would,  and  long  ago,  have 
had  a  perfectly  frank  and  full  conversation  with 
herself,  and,  if  necessary,  witii  her  mother.  You 
have  a  contempt  for  this  Mr.  Arthur  fur  wait- 
ing, hoping,  fearing  .so  long.  Very  well ;  bet- 
ter despise  him  for  cowardice  in  the  matter  than 
that  the  one  who  j)ens  these  lines  should  despise 
himself  for  telling  a  falsehood  in  the  matter. 
"If  I  was  Alexander  I  would  do  so  and  so," 
said  Hejihffistion.  "  And  so  would  I  were  I  Ile- 
pha;stion,"  replied  Alexander.  You  have,  dear 
reader,  first  to  be  Mr.  Arthur,  defects  and  all, 
and  then  to  be  exactly  in  Mr.  Arthur's  rather 
jxiculiar  position,  before  you  can  decide  how  he 
should  have  acted. 

"We  so-called  Union  people  here  in  Somer- 
ville are  like —  By  ue  I  do  not  mean  to  include 
you.  Miss  Alice,"  says  Mr.  Arthur  to  her  one 
day.  He  has  made  his  semi  six-months'  call 
at  Mrs.  Bowles's,  and  finds  that  lady  away  from 
home  assisting  down-town  in  the  preparations 
for  a  supper  in  behalf  of  the  sick  soldiers — the 
proceeds  somehow  never  reaching  them  in  its 
transit  through  so  very  many  hands — very  little 
at  least — and  that  paper-money  into  which  the 
specie  paid  in  has  become  singularly  transmuted. 
We  dare  not  stop  to  ask  whether,  before  calling 
at  Mrs.  Bowles's,  Mr.  Arthur  knew  or  not  of 
that  lady's  absence.  How  could  he,  in  that 
case,  have  conscientiously  asked  Miss  Alice  if 
her  mother  was  at  home  ? 

"The  Union  people  in  and  around  Somer- 
ville," he  repeats,  having  corrected  himself  from 
daring  to  class  his  fair  friend  among  them,  "  are 
like  the  early  Christians." 

"  In  purity  of  purpose  or  in  degree  of  perse- 
cution?" asks  Alice,  looking  up — what  beauti- 
ful eyes!  thinks  her  visitor — from  her  sewing. 
Was  ever  woman  lovelier?  demands  Mr.  Arthur 
of  himself,  warming  himself  in  her  presence  aft- 
er long  dwelling  among  winds  and  frosts  and 
icebergs  without. 

"It  was  of  their  kindly  feeling  toward  each 
other  that  I  spoke,"  says  he.  "Not  a  day  I  do 
not  hear  of  some  charitable  and  generous  deed. 
You  have  long  heard  of  old  Mr.  Adams — " 

"Is  it  not  strange  that  so  large  a  slaveholder 
should  be  a  Fnion  man?  You  know  he  openly 
avows  it,"  says  Alice. 

"  He  is  far  from  being  the  only  slaveholder — " 
begins  Mr.  Arthur,  but  prudently  halts.  "He 
has  had  the  reputation  heretofore  of  being  rath- 
er— rather — " 

"  A  penurious  old  gentleman,"  supplies  Alice, 
demurely.     "Proverbially  so,  I  fear." 

"Well,  his  corn-cribs,  fodder-stacks,  smoke- 
houses, grain-bins,  poultry-yard  seem  to  have 
ceased  to  be  his  own  this  last  year.  He  gives 
away  as  freely  as  water.  People  send  out  their 
wagons,  and  help  themselves  as  a  matter  of 
course.     Provided,  you  know — " 

"  The  applicant  be  thoroughly  disloyal~to  the 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


171 


Confederacy  I  mean,"  says  Alice  with,  did  ever 
wonuiu  lirtve  so  sweet  a  siuiie  since  Eve  was  cre- 
ated? says  Mr.  Arthur,  tu  liimseif.  "  Oh,  yes," 
she  continues,  "Mr.  Necly  was  telling  nio  of  it 
when  he  was  liere  last  night ;  no,  it  was  when  he 
was  here  last  week.  lie  tells  inc  the  Union  peo- 
l)le  are  mure  like  one  family  dwelling  over  town 
in  ditVerent  houses — w  hat  belongs  to  one  belongs 
to  all.  I  hajipened  to  pass  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith's 
this  morning,  and  I  noticed  no  less  than  three 
wagons  unloading  sacks  of  something — pigs,  tur- 
keys, cliickens,  corn — almost  every  thing,  and 
met  two  immense  ox  teams  going  in  that  direc- 
tion with  wood  as  I  came  away." 

Like  one  family  ?  More  loving  with  each 
other  than  the  members  of  families  generally 
are.  Those  of  the  Union  people  in  Somerville 
who  did  not  even  know  of  each  other's  names  or 
existence  had  long  now  become  well  acipiainted. 
Long  before  this  had  old  quarrels  between  such 
of  these  as  had  been  at  variance  ceased.  No 
distinction  of  occupation,  denomination,  prop- 
erty between  these  any  longer.  Treated  with 
contempt,  at  least  coldness,  by  all  Secessionists, 
Union  people  can  not  even  pass  each  other  on 
the  street  without  stopping  to  shake  hands.  On 
the  most  frivolous  j)rctcnscs,  and  on  none  at  all, 
they  are  visiting  each  other,  specially  when  "  dis- 
astrous news"  is  afloat,  all  the  day.  The  very 
children  of  Union  parents  confidently  expect 
now,  when  they  pass  him  on  the  street,  as  much 
of  a  smile  as  Mr.  Ferguson  ever  manages  to 
radiate  through  his  beard.  As  to  that,  more 
than  once  or  twice  has  sober  little  Robby  Sorel 
come  home  laden  with  gifts  from  men  he  has 
met  in  town  of  whom  he  only  knows  that  they 
asked  his  name. 

And  how  Mr.  Arthur  cherishes,  hidden  among 
his  sermons,  letters  of  encouragement,  anony- 
mous, honestly  signed,  drop-letters  from  persons 
in  Somerville,  long  letters  from  strangers  living 
far  away.  Letters  in  which  the  writers  venture 
decided  opinions  in  reference  to  current  events 
in  guarded  language,  but  with  such  an  air  of 
being  arrived  at  on  the  part  of  the  writers  after 
much  thought,  and  as  original  and  remarkable 
discoveries  as  makes  Mr.  Arthur  smile.  The 
plain  country  people  that  take  INIr.  Arthur  cau- 
tiously to  one  side  when  they  meet  him,  and 
break  to  him,  in  exceedingly  prolix  and  round- 
about way,  their  views,  or  ride  out,  introduce 
themselves,  and  spend  the  night  at  Mrs.  Sorel's 
to  do  the  same,  each  displaying  his  devotion  to 
the  Union  and  his  execration  for  the  Confed- 
eracy from  within  a  hundred  wrai)))ings,  like  a 
precious  jewel  peculiar  to  the  speaker's  self.  And 
the  delight,  too,  mingled  with  fears  that  he  may 
not  be  prudent  as  be  should  be,  of  the  new  friend 
when  he  finds  Mr.  Arthur,  with  exactly  the  same 
opinions,  so  very  decided  and  clear. 

Not  plain  people,  obscure  and  quiet  only. 

"Parson  Arthur,  hold  up  a  minute,  I  want  to 


say  a  word  to  you,"  says  Bob  Withers,  whom 
Mr.  Arthur  meets  face  to  face  on  horseback  in  a 
seciuestercd  sjiot  near  Somerville.  And  Mr.  Ai'- 
thur  comi)lies,  but  with  very  cold  manner,  for, 
like  almost  every  man  of  his  class  in  Somerville, 
Mr.  Withers  is  very  shy  of  Mr.  Arthur  in  ]iub- 
lic  ;  Mr.  Arthur,  therefore,  is  doubly  shy  of  him. 
But  Bob's  open,  cordial  face  is  irresistible. 

"I've  wanted  to  speak  to  you  for  a  hmg  time. 
But  in  strict  confidence,  by  George!  mind — in 
strict  confidence.  Parson.  You  look  pale  and 
worn,  and  go  about  Somerville  looking  as  if  you 
didn't  have  a  friend  there.  I  wanted  to  tell  yon 
it's  a  mistake — you've  plenty,  only  we  don't  like 
just  now,  by  George !  to  show  it.  You  just  hold 
out,  Parson  ;  that's  w  hat  you've  got  to  do,  hold 
out!  I  ain't  a  professor  myself,  as  you  well 
know,  though  if  I  don't  get  to  heaven  at  last  it's 
a  poor  chance  for  most  Christians,  by  George!  / 
know.  When  this  thing  came  about,  do  yon 
supi)ose  I  didn't  know  as  well  as  you  and  Brooks 
and  the  rest  it  was  a  piece  of  the  most  in-fer-nal 
folly  ?  What  could  a  fellow  do,  by  George ! 
We  were  in  it,  you  see.  But  it's  worse  than  I 
ever  thought  it  could  be.  Worse?  The  lying, 
swindling,  shirking,  stealing,  murdering,  un-i- 
ver-sal  sconndrelisra!  Oh,  never  mind,  by 
George !  You  only  hold  out — that's  what  I  say, 
hold  out!  And  if  you  think  I  don't  know  as  well 
as  you  that  this  whole  thing  is  hurrying,  like  ev- 
ery other  spree,  slam  bang  to  eternal  smash,  you 
are  just,  by  George!  mistaken.     Yes,  Sir-ree!" 

And  Mr.  Arthur  does  not  see  his  way  clear  to 
refuse  the  double  eagle  Bob  W^ithers  insists  ui)on 
leaving  with  him  as  a  token  of  regard  when  they 
part  at  last.  As  to  that,  no  one  can  write  a  let- 
ter or  speak  a  word,  "in  confidence  between  us, 
Sir,"  without  doing  something  of  the  same  kind. 
Though  Brother  Barker  even  would  have  been 
almost  satisfied  with  the  coldness  with  which 
Bob  W^ithers  and  Mr.  Arthur  pass  each  other  on 
the  street  the  very  next  day. 

In  fact  Bob  W^ithers  is  very  far  from  being  the 
only  prominent  Secessionist  of  whom  ^Ir.  Ar- 
thur could  have  told  some  singular  things  if  he 
had  wished.  But  who  dare  say  what  is  done 
toward  this  by  Vicksburg,  Port  Hudson,  and 
Gettysburg? 

Even  the  grand  old  Major  seems  to  look  down 
more  benignantly  than  of  old  from  his  frame,  this 
spring  morning  of  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty- 
four,  upon  Mr.  Arthur  thawing  himself  in  the 
society  of  the  Major's  daughter.  Very  dignified 
and  reserved  indeed  the  visitor  intended  to  be 
when  he  found,  so  very  unexpectedly,  that  he 
must  be  entertained  by  the  daughter  instead  of 
the  mother.  It  was,  after  all  formal  inquiries 
in  reference  to  Rutlcdgc  Bow  les,  at  whose  name 
l)oth  color  simultaneously;  after  being  fully  in- 
formed in  reference  to  Mrs.  Bowles's  health, 
whom  he  already  knows  to  have  become  grayer, 
thinner,  more  nervous  than  ever  from  what  ho 


172 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


has  casually  heard  and  seen  of  her ;  after  Alice 
has  volunteered  to  speak  of  the  school  slie  is  in- 
tending to  keep,  after  all  this  and  a  little  old 
music  too,  that  Mr.  Arthur,  slipping  from  sheer 
force  of  habit,  jjermits  himself  to  speak  of  poli- 
tics by  the  reference  to  the  kindliness  among 
Union  people. 

He  ventures,  Mrs.  Sorel  and  Robby  lx?ing  men- 
tioned, to  tell  how  the  latter  is  advancing  in  his 
studies.  Nor  can  he  resist  the  inclination  by 
this  time  to  relate  how  Robby  was  assaulted  for 
about  the  hundrodtii  time  on  his  last  errand  into 
.Sonierville  by  Joe  Stai)les.  But  Mr.  Arthur  re- 
frains from  mentioning  tlic  artillery  of  Yankee, 
free  negro,  Abolitionist,  traitor,  and  a  good  deal 
worse  with  which  Robby  was  assailed.  That  he 
and  every  child  of  every  Union  parent  had  long 
ago  become  accustomed  to,  tliough  it  took  a  long 
time  before  Robby  could  endure  being  cursed  as 
an  Abolitionist,  that  being  something  ingrained 
into  him  as  far  worse  than  any  other  epithet  in 
the  world — the  quintessence  of  all  abuse.  But 
when  Joe  Staples  actually  seized  upon  the  bridle 
of  Robby's  pony,  and  would  not  let  the  child 
pass  till  he  had  been  sufficiently  cursed,  nothing 
being  left  for  it,  Robby  slip])cd  off  his  pony,  left 
him  to  his  fate,  and  pitched  in,  demure  little 


A  SMALL   SKIBMI8H. 


fellow  as  he  was,  with  his  neat  jeans  suit  and 
his  hair  fresh  from  his  mother's  brushing,  and, 
with  the  sudden  ferocity  unknown  to  his  mother 
and  himself  under  surface  of  his  sober  sense, 


gave  Joe  Staples  such  a  drubbing  as  increases 
tenfold  Staples  Senior's  hatred  for  the  Union 
people,  and  causes  Mr.  Ellis  to  caution  his  Char- 
ley tliat  night  at  table  against  ever  associating 
with  a  boy  so  desperately  depraved  as  Robby 
Sorel. 

"And  she  to  set  herself  off  from  everj-  body, 
and  pretend  to  be  so  very  strict  with  her  chil- 
dren !"  says  Mrs.  Ellis  from  her  bed  in  the  next 
room.  "You  hear  what  I  say,  children?  If  ever 
I  know  of  your  associating  yourselves  with 
them — "     And  so  on,  and  so  on. 

"Do  j'ou  know,"  says  Alice,  at  last,  "that 
Mrs.  Warner  and  Mr.  Ellis,  and  the  others  who 
have  withdrawn  from  the  church,  are  greatly  of- 
fended that  you  never  have  called  even  to  see 
them  since  they  withdrew?" 

"And  when  they  have  urged  me  so  often  to 
do  so,  too,"  adds  her  visitor,  reflecting  her  smile. 
"Would  you  have  me  do  so,  Alice — Miss  Alice  ?" 

What  a  nameless  charm  in  the  very  parting 
of  her  hair,  in  the  plain  collar  around  her  neck, 
in  the  flow  of  her  calico  dress — one  she  has  had 
now  four  years  if  he  only  knew  it — a  divine 
grace,  a  heavenly  sweetness !  After  so  long, 
long  a  period,  too,  of  anxiety,  disappointment, 
alienation  from  a  hundred  friends!  Of  course 
he  exaggerated  her,  idealized,  apotheosized — ^just 
as  we  must  not  trust  what  is  said  of  Italy  by 
travelers  fresh  from  long  and  bitter  travel  in 
crossing  the  Alps.  So  rapidly  and  thoroughly 
has  this  lover  thawed,  beyond  all  his  resolves 
when  he  first  bowed  to  her,  on  principle  not 
even  shaking  hands  with  her  on  his  first  com- 
ing !  Five  minutes  more,  and,  having  lost  all 
resolve  to  the  contrary  as  if  it  had  never  been, 
Mr.  Arthur  will  have  learned  his  fate.  A  dis- 
course infinitely  more  impassioned  and  eloquent 
than  he  had  ever  favored  her  with  from  the  pul- 
pit already  burns  on  his  lii>s,  when — the  big  bell 
of  Brother  Barker's  church  first,  then,  clamor- 
ing in  as  for  their  places  in  a  procession,  one  by 
one,  every  bell  in  Somerville  I  Really  and  truly 
it  was  tlie  great,  hidden,  unacknowledged  move- 
ment, from  the  recent  Federal  successes,  which 
had  thrown  these  two  thus  so  close  together. 
At  the  first  blow  made  by  Joe  Staples — yet  stiff 
from  his  drubbing  but  a  martyr  to  the  cause — 
upon  the  big  bell,  these  two  are  far  asunder. 
His  fault,  his,  not  hers  ! 

And  here  are  Mrs.  Bowles  and  !Mr.  Neely. 
Great  news,  glorious  news !  From  the  States 
west  of  the  Mississij)pi  this  time.  Banks  is  re- 
pulsed at  Mansfield,  eight  hundred  wagons,  fifty 
cannon,  innumerable  prisonei-s,  all  the  gun-boats 
and  transports;  not  the  least  doubt  but  the  next 
mail  will  bring  accounts  of  the  capture  or  de- 
struction of  the  last  vestige  of  the  Federal  forces. 

Slight,  pallid,  enthusiastic  i\Irs.  Bowles!    She 

strives,  even  in  the  excess  of  her  joy,  to  be  quiet 

,  from  habitual  refinement,  but  fairly  radiates  with 

;  exultation.    And  Mr.  Neely !    Getting  quite  fat, 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


173 


physically  as  well  as  pecuniarily,  upon  his  con- 
tractorsliiji,  he  is  rosy  as  iiiorniny,  rubliing  liis 
hands,  pulling  down  his  waistcoat,  jubilant  in 
every  curl  of  his  hair,  in  every  motion  of  his 
body,  for  he  can  not  sit  still !  If  any  thing  was 
needed  to  brim  his  cup  it  was  meeting  Mr.  Ar- 
thur in  just  that  parlor  on  just  that  occasion. 
Even  the  old  Major  overhead  beams  ui)on  them 
in  grander  proportions,  struggling  in  his  frame 
to  speak. 

And  just  at  this  juncture  it  is  that  Brother 
Barker  makes  that  fatal  mistake  of  his.  The 
Somcrvillo  Star  is  full  of  the  news.  Tim  Lam- 
nm  and  Bob  Withers  shake  hands  over  it — alien- 
ated during  three  months  before  from  something 
rising  out  of  jioker.  Dr.  Peel  has  read  the  dis- 
])atchcs  aloud  in  a  dozen  crowds,  with  running 
oaths  of  confirmation.  Even  Bill  Perkins,  fallen 
back  into  a  mere  stage-driver  on  account  of  Con- 
federate disasters  he  has  been  bringing  so  long, 
with  vague  sense  on  the  part  of  the  people  that  he 
is  somehow  to  blame  for  them,  is  treated  till  he 
can  not  stand.  Dr.  Ginnis,  inllated,  from  the 
shabbiest  collapse,  in  five  minutes,  by  the  news, 
to  his  fullest  former  proportion,  is  up  and  down 
every  street,  in  and  out  of  every  store  in  the 
place,  slapping  his  hands  together,  drawing  back 
his  sleeves,  wheezing  but  irrepressible,  gesticu- 
lating though  he  can  not  speak. 

There  is  Mrs.  Warner;   from  some  sudden 
whirl,  given  by  the  Confederate  disasters,  she 
has   been  prophesying  defeat  and  ruin  to  the 
South  for  weeks  on  weeks  now.     Not  a  bit  less 
vituperative.     She  plies  her  snuft'-stick  as  en- 
ergetically as  ever,  denouncing  the  swindling, 
stealing,  lying  officials  of  the  Confederacy,  their 
cowardice   and  inaction !      She  does  not   stop 
with,  "We  are  whipped — whijjped,  I  tell  you!" 
but  even  adds,  "And  I'm  glad  of  it,  because  I 
hope  the  Federals  will  catch  and  hang  these  mis- 
erable fellows  loafing  about  with  their  stripes 
and  ambulances  and  things,  when  they  ought 
to  be  off  at  the  front,  as  they  call  it,  fighting !" 
All  of  which  falls  incessant  upon  Dr.  Warner, 
who  droops  his  head  and  takes  it,  conscious  of 
being  in  some  general  way  guilty  of  it  all  him- 
self.    Even  if  he  is  balder  these  days,  what  he 
loses  in  hair  he  makes  up  in  flesh — a  storm- 
beaten  mariner,  but  used  to  the  squall  and  gust. 
The  instant  Dr.  Warner  could  tell  his  wife  this 
last  news,  before  he  had  got  it  half  out  of  his  lips, 
his  wife  had  snapped  her  forefinger  and  thumb,  and 
thrust  the  former  within  half  an  inch  of  his  nose. 
"Didn't  I  tell  you  so,  Dr.  Warner?    I  want 
you  to  tell  me  that  this  instant !     Didn't  I  tell 
yon  so?     Didn't  I  tell  you,  over  and  over  and 
over  again,  we  would  whip  them  yet  ?     Always 
croaking! — telling  me  about  your  Gettysburgs 
and  Vicksburgs  till  I  was  sick  of  the  sound ! 
And  you  a  pious  man — at  least,  pretend  to  be, 
and  doubt  that  God  is  a  just  Being !     Wanted 
me  to  laugh  at  Brother  Barker." 


Which  brings  us  back  to  the  fatal  mistake 
made  by  that  clergyman  when  the  news  comes 
of  Banks's  repulse. 

"I  hope  so,  I  hope  so!"  ho  says,  having  hold 
of  Mr.  Ellis's  hand,  with  peculiarly  mournful  in- 
tonation of  the  word  "hope;"  "but  I  fear  not. 
We  have  been  so  often  deceived — I  myself,  on 
one  occasion — by  mere  idle  rumors.  You,  as  a 
Christian,  will  understand  me  when  I  say  I  see 
the  hand  of  Satan,  the  Father  of  Lies,  often  put 
forth  these  days.  For  some  inscrutable  purpose,] 
always  against  the  best  and  holiest  of  causes; 
but,"  adds  Brother  Barker,  with  a  sorrowful 
shake  of  his  head,  "we  are  not  ignorant  of  his 
devices.  I  hojje  so,  Brother  Ellis,  but  I  fear  not, 
fear  not." 

Even  Mr.  Ferguson,  pasting  the  dispatches  as 
they  come  into  his  Scrap-book — with  grim  un- 
belief upon  the  surface  of  his  beard,  though  sin- 
ccrest  api)rehension  is  tugging  at  its  roots — even 
Mr.  Ferguson  might  have  admired  the  sorrow- 
ful, not  to  say  morose,  disbelief  in  the  glorious 
tidings,  by  Brother  Barker,  as  he  shakes  himself 
away,  with  boding  head  and  sorrowful  hand, 
through  the  crowds  upon  the  streets. 

Long  ago,  like  all  his  class,  his  chiefest  asso- 
ciations have  been,  especially  on  the  street,  witli 
striped  oflScials  and  brass-buttoned  heroes.  He 
may  be  talking  with  Sam  Peters  about  his  ba<l 
fall  from  his  horse,  awfully  exaggerated  by  Sam  ; 
or  with  Smithers,  also  a  member  of  his  church, 
about  Mrs.  Smithcrs's  last  worthless  runaway 
of  a  cook ;  even  with  Mrs.  Warner,  who  regu- 
larly attends  his  church  now,  and  always  bewails 
Mr.  Arthur's  course  in  conversation  with  her  new 
pastor — whoever  it  is  with  whom  he  is  speaking, 
let  Brother  Barker  but  catch  sight  of  a  military 
man  passing,  or  over  the  street,  and,  with  a 
hurried  excuse,  he  is  off  to  speak  to  the  son  of 
Mars,  or  to  get  an  introduction — oftener  to  in- 
troduce himself,  if  unacquainted. 

But  when  this  news  of  our  glorious  victor}- 
over  Banks  in  Louisiana  arrives.  Brother  Barker 
fails  to  render  to  Ca;sar  the  things  that  are 
Caesar's. 

"I  hope  so,  Captain  Simmons — ho-p-e  so,"  he 
says,  steadily  resisting  the  universal  Faith  and 
Joy,  gently  deprecating  it,  with  open  hand,  as  a 
father  among  his  thoughtless  children — "but 
I  fear  not,  f-e-a-r  not !" 

And  this  illustrates  just  what  Mr.  Necly  so 
bitterly  bewails — the  deep-seated,  utterly  incura- 
ble want  of  faith  in  even  the  most  thorough- 
going of  Northern-born  Secessionists  on  the  part 
of  Southern-born  men. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  see  that  person  who  has 
just  left  us,"  says  Captain  Simmons,  full  of  sol- 
emn joy,  and  something  else,  over  the  news,  his 
left  arm  around  a  friendly  post;  "Rev.  [hie] 
Mr.  [hie]  Barker,  resi-resident  clerpv--clergyman 
of  this  commun-munity.  Did  you  ob — [hie] — 
observe  the  statement  he  imparty-imparted  to  mc 


174 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


••DIDN'T  I   TELL  YOU   SO?" 


[hie]?  We  liaving  ful-fullest  dispatches  of  a 
glori-glorious  achev-y-achievement,  he,  that  [hie] 
rndividnal,  doubts  it,  gently-gentlemen,  doithts 
it !"     (Intense  scorn.)     "But  do  you  conjy-con- 


jecty-conjecture  the  reason  ?  A  Yankee !  I  ady- 
admit  he  toils  hard  [hie]  to  hide  it— verj-  hard. 
It  icUl  come  out.  Not  a  Yankee  in  [hie]  the 
whole  Confedy-Confederacy  this  day  [hie]  but  is 


INSIDE.— A  CllKONlCLE  OF  SECESSION. 


176 


a  double  traitor — traity-traitor  to  his  own  sick- 
sack-scction,  and  a  traitor  to  [liii'j  us.  My  ear- 
liest inf-infaiicy  was,  I  may  say,  sat-sit-saturatcd 
with  reverence  for  tiie  cloth.  But  that  Yankee, 
Bub-Barker,  I  rc\x)lt  tVoni.  To  those  of  his  birtli 
I  apply  the  language  of  the — the  hymn  :  '  Touch 
not,  taste  not,  handle  not !'  " 

Is  it  reasonable,  therefore,  to  wonder  at  the 
frantic  ctt'ort  made  by  Brother  Barker  to  right 
himself,  when  it  is  established  beyond  all  doubt 
that  Banks  has  really  been  rcpulsetl  ?  Eager 
as  Mr.  Ferguson  and  the  rest  of  the  Union  pco- 
]>le  arc  to  stave  oft' that  conviction,  strange  to  say, 
the  fact  of  the  aff"air  breaks  at  last  upon  them 
not  more  against  their  wishes  than  it  does  npon 
the  preacher  against  his  I  Frantic  ettbrt?  Broth- 
er Barker  tlnds  Prophecy  which  bears  direct  ujion 
it.  In  the  course  of  a  sermon  on  the  golden 
image  whicii  Nebuchadnezzar  set  up,  after  prov- 
ing that  the  erection  of  the  Washington  Monu- 
ment at  Washington  City,  being  as  palpable  an 
idolatry  as  in  the  case  of  the  Babylonish  king, 
was  doubtless  the  grand  sin  for  which  the  South 
was  chastised.  Brother  Barker  gave  in  his  pain- 
ful experience  as  an  unbeliever  in  reference  to 
the  late  news.  With  tears  he  made  a  clean 
breast  of  it : 

"As  lack  of  faith,  brethren,  in  Kirby  Smith, 
it  was  no  sin  ;  as  lack  of  faith  in  Heaven,  pledged 
by  all  its  attributes  to  the  cause  of  the  South,  it 
was  a  great  sin.  Pardon  your  most  unworthy 
speaker" — bowed  head,  wet  eyes,  handkerchief. 
"And  at  this  very  moment,  while  I  stand  here 
before  you" — handkerchief  dropped  on  the  desk, 
arms  extended  at  their  full  length  upward,  eyes 
upon  the  ceiling  above  the  pulpit,  lank  hair  fall- 
ing back  from  the  head  bowed  backward — "the 
angels  in  heaven,  seraphic  Stonewall  Jackson 
towering  among  them,  all  who  have  gone  thither 
by  mill — thousands  from  our  glorious  battle- 
fields, air  heaven  I" — extended  arms  farther  ex- 
tended to  take  it  all  in — "  from  innumerable 
harps  rings  Jubilee  over  our  victory  at  Mans- 
field!"  Speaker  stationary  for  a  moment  in 
thrilling  tableau  ;  then  slowly-falling  eyes,  then 
hands,  then  head. 

"But" — handkerchief,  sip  of  water,  tone  fiill- 
en  from  ecstasy  to  commonplace — "let  us  note, 
in  the  fourth  place,  who  are  destroyed  by  the 
Furnace  Flames."  Which  proves  in  some  way 
to  have  been  the  Federal  Government. 

If  we  think  we  can  depart  when  the  sermon 
is  over  we  are  mistaken.  Brother  Barker — very 
hoarse — has  been,  as  we  brethren  may  be  aware, 
in  attendance  last  week  at  the  regular  semi-an- 
nual meeting  of  our  Church  in  the  State.  A 
full  attendance,  as  we  are  happy  to  know.  Sub- 
ject of  the  support  of  the  ministers;  fully  dwelt 
ui)on  this  by  the  preacher.  One  or  two  other 
matters  before  we  come  to  the  main  business 
done  by  said  meeting,  brethren. 

And  here  Brother  Barker  proceeds  to  rejid  in 


his  best  manner  a  M'hcrcas,  with  ten  resolutions 
tliereujiou,  passed  unanimously  at  said  meeting, 
in  enthusiastic  eulogy,  exultation,  prophesy,  in 
reference  to  the  Confederate  Government  in  gen- 
eral, and  one  or  two  Major-Generals  in  particu- 
lar— the  well-known  morals,  or  rather  immorals, 
of  said  individuals  causing  their  names  to  have 
an  odd  sound,  as  of  Saul  among  the  Prophets, 
in  that  connection. 

One  thing  more — the  collection  for  Brother 
Barker's  support. 

"Not  that  you  do  not  mean  well  by  jiutting  in 
Confederate  money,  dear  brethren,"  the  ]jreach- 
cr  mildly  expostulates  as  the  hats  go  around  ; 
"  not  that  I  will  not  gladly  do  all  in  my  power 
to  sustain  the  currency.  But  you  know  as  well 
as  I  that  it  rates  only  at  twenty  for  one.  Even 
at  that,  people,  I  grieve  to  say,  will  not  touch  it 
when  they  can  possibly  avoid  it.  Of  their  gold 
and  silver  Scripture  invariably  represents  the 
generous  as  contributing ;  it  is  surely  of  our  best 
that  we  should  give  to  the  House  of  the  Lord. 
Understand  me,  brethren,  not  that  I — " 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

It  came  upon  Somerville  at  last.  Came  the 
very  week  of  the  Sabbath  upon  which  Brother 
Barker  had  exulted,  with  the  nngels  in  heaven, 
over  the  repulse  of  Banks  on  Red  River.    Came 


176 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


at  the  very  time  the  Secession  clement  of  Som- 
crville  was  glittering  njion  the  very  crest,  the 
Union  element  glooming  in  the  lowest  trough 
of  the  ever-rolling  se.i.  Came  to  SomerN'ille  as 
comes  upon  the  jiit  of  his  stomach  to  a  pugilist 
an  unexpected  blow  when  he  has  just  warded 
off  another  from  his  eye.  So  occupied  were  we 
all  in  Somerville  with  the  defeat  of  Banks  that 
we  had  completely  forgotten  about  ourselves.  It 
was  like  that  ball  in  Brussels  of  which  Lord  By- 
ron has  issued  such  extensive  tickets:  no  mar- 
riage bell  went  merrier  than  did  Somerville, 
wlien,  like  the  roar  of  the  coining  Waterloo, 
dimming  the  sparkling  eyes,  paling  the  glowing 
cheeks  at  said  ball,  comes  the  rumor  of  an  ad- 
vance of  the  Federals  upon  the  town. 

IIow  the  rumor  first  reached  the  place  who 
can  tell  ?  Rumor  at  times  seems  to  be,  indeed, 
the  living  goddess  the  Romans  made  it,  and  to 
move  with  lightning  rapidity  in  and  by  itself 
withcKut  the  intervention  of  any  means  whatev- 
er. It  was  exactly  at  nine  o'clock  Friday  night 
that  Dr.  Warner  threw  Mrs.  Warner  into  strong 
hysterics  by  the  announcement  that  the  Feder- 
als were  coming.  When  that  lady  ventured  to 
steal  forth  after  a  night  spent  in  hiding  her  sil- 
ver and  the  children  of  her  negro  woman,  lest 
the  mother  should  run  away,  her  jewelry  and 
other  valuables,  refreshing  herself  occasionally 
by  abuse  of  alternately  the  Confederates  and  the 
Federals,  her  husband  being  most  to  blame  of 
all,  the  first  object  she  beheld  was  the  Federal 
flag  flying  from  the  roof  of  the  Court-house,  near 
which  Dr.  Warner  had  his  home. 

We  have  the  authority  of  Sir  Walter  Scott 
that  the  bugle  blast  of  Roderick  Dhu  possessed 
the  double  power  both  of  causing  the  instanta- 
neous appearance  and  the  as  instantaneous  dis- 
appearance of  bodies  of  men.  Whatever  wizard 
blew  the  blast  in  this  case,  the  appearing  of  the 
Federal  force  was  not  more  sudden  than  was  the 
disappearance  of  the  male  Secessionists  of  Som- 
erville. For  reasons  which  will  appear  in  the 
sequel,  we  abstain  from  saying  any  thing  more 
in  reference  to  this  raid  than  the  actual  fact  of 
its  having  taken  place  just  at  that  time  in  Som- 
erville compels  us  to  record.  Closed  stores, 
upon  the  walls  of  which  the  enemy  have  posted 
bills  informing  the  citizens  that,  so  long  as  they 
are  themselves  quiet,  the  invaders  will  scrupu- 
lously avoid  molesting  any  other  than  Confeder- 
ate property  ;  deserted  streets,  every  individual 
peeping  from  behind  doors  and  through  the  slats 
of  shutters  with  curiosity  swallowing  up  all  other 
feeling;  the  marching  hither  and  thither  of  blue- 
coated  cavalry ;  the  sound  of  martial  music — a 
dream  come  and  gone  before  we  know  it. 

That  Friday  night  Mr.  Arthur  was  in  the  very 
act  of  kneeling  with  Mrs.  Sorel's  household  at 
family  worship  when  an  halloo  makes  it  neces- 
sary for  Robby  to  go  down  to  the  front  gate  to 
quiet  the  dogs  and  find  out  what  is  wanted.     He 


is  gone  so  long  that  Mr.  Arthur  himself  goes  out. 
lie  meets  liobby  returning,  and  only  hears  some 
one  shout,  "  Tell  them  exactly  what  I  told  you !" 
as  the  one  shouting  gallops  off  in  the  darkness. 
Repeating  his  mes.sage  on  the  way  back,  Robby 
repeats  it  yet  again  when  he  gets  into  the  house. 
A  most  remarkable  message  it  is. 

"Colonel  Brooks  says,  'Be  prudent,  don't 
commit  yourselves !' " 

"Colonel  Brooks?"  asks  Mrs.  Sorel—" Col- 
onel Brooks,  Brooks?" 

"Nothing  else?"  asks  Mr.  Arthur,  bewilder- 
ment giving  place  to  the  sudden  joy. 

"  As  soon  as  I  could  get  old  Cutf  to  stop  bark- 
ing I  asked,  'Who's  there  ?'  "  says  Robby,  sober- 
ly, but  not  without  some  vague  sense  of  new  im- 
portance.    "One  of  the  men — " 

"There  were  two,  then?"  asks  his  mother. 

"Yes,  ma,  on  horseback,  two — Dr.  Peel  and 
Mr.  Brooks.  Colonel  Brooks  says,  '  Be  pru- 
dent, don't  commit  yourselves!'  That  is  e.xact- 
ly  what  Mr.  Brooks  said.  'Is  that  you,  Rob- 
by ?'  he  asked,  when  I  first  got  to  the  gate — 
'Is  that  you,  Robby?'  so  eagerly.  Humph," 
adds  Robby,  "I  think  I  ought  to  know  Mr. 
Brooks's  voice.  Didn't  I  used  to  see  him  every 
day?  Wasn't  he  my  Sunday-school  teacher? 
Colonel  Brooks  says,  '  Be  prudent,  don't  com- 
mit yourselves !'     And  then  they  galloped  ott'." 

"But  how  do  you  know  the  other  was  Dr. 
Feel  ?"  asked  Mr.  Arthur,  while  Mrs.  Sord  has 
sunk  again  in  her  arm-chair,  as  if  unable  to 
stand. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  that  before  I  got  to  the  gate. 
He  was  cursing  old  Cuff,  you  know,"  adds  Rob- 
by. "Oh,  I  know  Dr.  Peel.  I've  heard  hira 
cursing  and  swearing  ten  thousand  times.  Col- 
onel Brooks  says,  'Be  prudent,  don't  commit 
yourselves!'"  Robby  repeats  the  words  as  he 
had  before  done  quite  other  words,  verses  and 
the  like,  from  Mr.  Brooks's  lips  in  the  Sabbath- 
school. 

"I  really  and  sincerely  think  you  had  better 
go,"  says  Mrs.  Sorel,  suddenly,  to  Mr.  Arthur, 
after  half  an  hour  of  wondering  and  questioning. 

Mr.  Arthur  lifts  his  eyes  in  mute  inquiry, 
though  he  sees  at  a  glance  that  jdacid  Mrs.  Sorel 
has  been  reading  his  thoughts  all  the  time. 

"By  the  Federals  you  know  I  shall  be  re- 
spected," she  says,  rapidly  but  quietly;  "if  any 
of  the  Secessionists  should  endeavor  to  molest 
me,  it  would  be  none  the  better,  all  the  worse, 
if  you  were  here.     Go,  Mr.  Arthur,  go  !" 

"I  can  not  think  of  leaving  you.  None  but 
you  and  Robby,"  begins  that  individual.  "  The 
negroes — " 

"They  would  not  harm  their  old  mistress. 
No — Mrs.  Sorel  is  safer  without  you,"  she  adds, 
with  a  smile. 

"  I  can  not  think  of  going.  I  will  not  leave 
you  exposed,"  says  Mr.  Arthur,  throwing  on  the 
table  his  hat,  which  he  has,  most  unconsciously, 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


177 


got  from  the  hall,  nml  has  liad  in  his  hand  all 
this  time.  And  he  takes  his  seat,  and  draws 
liobhy  to  his  accustomed  place  between  his  knees. 
"Mr.  Arthur,"  says  Mrs.  Sorcl,  very  erect  in 
her  chair — as  thoroughly  from  South  Carolina 
nt  the  moment  as  Mrs.  Bowles  ever  was — "I 
am  mistress  in  my  own  house — No,  I  don't  mean 
that.  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your  mother.  I 
will  do  to  you  as  I  would  to  Frank  if  he  were 
hero.     I  command  you  to  go!" 

Even  as  he  gallops  along  through  the  darkness 
toward  Somcrville  his  conscience  smites  him  ; 
but  he  gallops  on,  leaving  the  casuistry  of  the 
case  to  be  settled  when  he  has  moie  time. 

A  busy  time  he  finds  it  when  he  reaches  town. 
He  had  met  more  than  one  vehicle  on  the  road 
thither;  he  now  hears  the  roll  of  wheels,  the 
galloping  of  horses  in  every  direction ;  slam- 
juing  doors,  running  feet,  sawing,  hammering, 
glancing  lights  in  the  windows,  lanterns  in  al- 
most every  stable.  Few  voices  heard,  but  an 
exceedingly  busy  time. 

Not  until  he  has  alighted  at  Mrs.  Bowles's 
gate  does  he  ask  himself  how  he  is  to  arrange 
matters  with  that  lady — what  he  is  to  say.  The 
front-door  is  open,  a  light  streams  from  it,  and, 
as  he  opens  the  gate  to  go  in,  the  beams  fall  full 
upon  the  face  of  Brother  Barker,  of  all  men  in 
the  world.  And  very  much  excited  indeed  is 
Brother  Barker. 

"Ah!  Brother  Arthur,"  he  says,  in  an  agi- 
tated manner,  seizing  upon,  and — from  sheer 
force  of  general  habit — shaking  the  hand  of  the 
other  in  the  long,  and  altogether  indescribable 
manner  peculiar  to  Brother  Barker  after  a  wa'nn 
meeting  in  church  or  arbor.  It  is  the  first  time 
he  has  even  spoken  to  Brother  Arthur  for  years 
now.  Generally  he  has  avoided  him  on  the 
street,  or,  when  compelled  to  pass  him,  i},  has 
been  with  a  nod  greatly  colder  than  no  recogni- 
tion ;  the  repulsion — moral,  religious,  intellect- 
ual, every  way — the  repulsion  between  these  two 
men  being  really  greater  than  that  between  any 
other  two  men  in  Somcrville. 

"Yoirr  horse,   I  believe.  Brother  Arthur?" 

pointing  to  the  animal  from  which  Mr.  Arthur 

had  just  alighted  with  his  left  hand,  while  he 

retains  his  friend's  hand,  still  shaking  it,  in  his 

'right. 

It  is  Mr.  Arthur's  horse. 
"Would  you  be  so  kind  ?  Some  unprincipled 
person  has  stolen  my  animal  from  the  stable 
within  the  last  hour.  The  fact  is — I  presume  ! 
you  may  know — it  is  believed  the  Federals — I 
would  not  wound  your  feelings  for  the  world. 
Brother  Arthur' — another  shake  of  the  hand — 
"  but  I  have  reason  to  think  that  I  may  be  sin- 
gled out" — greatly  agitated. 

"  What  can  /  do  for  you.  Sir  ?"  asks  Mr. 
Arthur,  to  close  the  interview,  endeavoring  in 
vain  to  extricate  his  hand. 

With  many  hurried  words  Brother  Barker  at 
M 


last  asks  and  obtains  Mr.  Arthur's  horse,  and 
rides  otV,  and  faster  than  its  owner  had  come. 
The  fact  is,  just  before.  Brother  Barker  and  Bob 
Withers  had  been  thrown  together  at  Staples's 
hotel,  in  the  universal  jumble  of  the  confusion 
and  hurry. 

"Oh,  is  this  1/ou,  Mr.  Barker?  You  here 
yet  ?■'  Mr.  Withers  has  found  time,  in  the  rush, 
to  stop  and  ask  of  that  gentleman,  with  astonish- 
ment, even  terror,  dejiicted  on  his  face.  "  Why, 
my  dear  Sir  —  by  George!  You  here  still? 
Don't  you  know  they  have  sworn  to  hang  you  ? 
You  must  have  heard  of  it ;  it  is  you  they  are 
*oming  to  Somcrville  after !  Colonel  Brooks 
commands  the  force.  It  was  you,  you  know — 
don't  you,  by  George! — who  had  his  brother 
I'aul  hung.  From  your  own  steeple  they'll  hang 
you,  man  !"  But  here  the  two  are  separated  in 
the  confusion,  and  for  several  days  after  Brother 
Barker  has  disappeared,  with  multitudes  of  oth- 
ers, from  the  streets  of  Somcrville. 

Mr.  Arthur  finds  himself  in  Mrs.  Bowles's  par- 
lor, and  in  company  with  that  lady  and  her  daugh- 
ter, before  he  has  at  all  arranged  what  to  say. 
He  had  not  supposed  Mrs.  Bowles  could  be  as 
cold  and  stately  as  she  now  bears  herself,  frail  as 
a  shadow,  the  silvered  hair  so  smoothly  arranged 
under  tlie  neat  cap,  the  refined  face  as  sorrow- 
ful yet  as  stern  as  Antigone.  Mr.  Arthur  has  a 
general  idea,  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  that 
so  far  from  being  in  undress  Mrs.  Bowles  has 
on  her  very  best  attire,  dressed  even  with  un- 
usual care.  With  coldest  politeness  she  barely 
endures  Mr.  Arthur.  Alice  sits  with  drooping 
eyes  after  the  first  salutations.  No  wonder  he 
can  not  read  her  thoughts,  she  is  far  from  know- 
ing them  herself. 

"Will  you  pardon  my  intrusion?"  he  asks, 
without  taking  a  seat.  "I  happen  to  be  in 
Somcrville  to-night,  and  come  to  beg,  if  alto- 
gether convenient,  that  I  may  be  permitted  to 
sleep  in  the  front  office  to-night." 

"If  you  desire  to  sleep  there,  not  being  able 
to  go  out  to  Mrs.  Sorel's,"  begins  Mrs.  Bowles, 
with  coldest  dignity,  and  as  ungraciously  as  she 
can  force  herself  to  be. 

"A  gentleman  has  just  borrowed  and  ridden 
off  my  horse,"  Mr.  Arthur  remarks,  Hannibal 
like,  his  shijjs  burned  behind  him,  that  having 
been  not  the  least  motive  with  him  in  permitting 
Brother  Barker  to  take  his  horse — not  without  a 
mounting  color  in  his  face,  and  conscious  of  the 
appealing  eyes  of  Alice  upon  him. 

"We  do  not  need  your  protection,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, nor  do  we  desire  it — Alice,  my  senants, 
and  myself,"  Mrs.  Bowles  proceeds  to  observe  in 
her  coldest  and  most  measured  manner.  "  Were 
there  no  one  else,  Rutledge  Bowles  being  absent, 
Mr.  Neely  has  kindly  sent  word  that,  as  soon  as 
he  has  secured  his  negroes  and  other  property, 
he  will  endeavor  to  call.  I  think  that  was  the 
substance  of  his  note,  Alice,  my  dear?" 


178 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"Mrs.  Sorel  and  myself  thought — " 

"I  am  aware  tliat  the  enemy  wliich  has  deso- 
lated other  parts  of  our  countiy  is  expected," 
continues  Mrs.  Bowles,  still  more  mcasurcdly. 
"Excuse  my  interrupting  you.  Sir.  I  am  per- 
fectly informed  also  of  the  outrages  and  atroci- 
ties to  which  we  may  and  probably  will  be  sub- 
jected by  them.  It  is  not  impossible  but  they 
have  heard  of  my  son,  Kutledge  Bowles,  and  may 
seek  to  visit  vengeance  on  Alice  and  myself  on 
that  account.  Nor  will  the  place  of  my  known 
birth  be  a  protection  to  me,  nor  my  known  hor- 
ror of  the  flag  they  bear,  nor  my  unspeakable 
aversion  to  their  country — " 

"Dear  mother,"  begins  Alice. 

"Permit  me,  Alice.  I  admired  your  spirit  in 
sending  word,  as  you  did,  to  Mr.  Nccly  that  we 
would  not  need  his  presence.  Alice  will  tell 
you  also  that  we  do  not  need  yours,  Mr.  Arthur. 
You  will  pardon  me.  Alice  and  myself  arc  pre- 
pared to  suffer  whatever  the  fiendish  foe  may  see 
fit  to  inflict — to  lay  down  our  poor  lives,  if  need 
be,  on  the  altar  of  our  country.  We  arc  quite 
poor  now.  They  will  find  but  little  to  rob  us  of. 
My  husband — Major  Bowles's  portrait  I  have  al- 
ready caused  to  be  removed."  Sure  enough, 
their  visitor,  who  had  missed  something,  he  could 
not  tell  what,  from  the  I'oom  from  the  time  he 
entered,  glances  over  the  mantle,  and  sees  only 
a  blank  space  where  lately  the  grand  old  Major 
used  to  sit  enthroned. 

"You  mnst  permit  me  to  add,  Sir,"  continues 
Mrs,  Bowles,  dignified  as  ever,  but  excited  by 
her  own  words,  "that  of  all  the  gentlemen  in 
this  community  you  are  the  last  I  would  look  to 
for  protection.  Passive  as  you  have  been,  to 
use  no  harsher  phrase,  in  this  the  struggle  for 
the  land  of  your  own  birth,  withholding  even 
your  prayers  for  its  success,  associating  exclu- 
sively with,  and  encouraging  to  your  utmost, 
those  in  our  midst  who  are  traitors  to  their  coun- 
try, vipers  upon  its  hearth — hush,  Alice,  you 
will  permit  me  to  speak  in  my  own  house — you. 
Sir,  are  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  whom  I 
would  wish,  above  all,  whom  I  would  have  Alice 
my  daughter  to  look  to  for  protection.  Though 
he  has  been  at  one  time  even  insolent,  I  would 
prefer  my — the  boy  Charles,  who  was  once  my 
servant,  as  a  protector.  That  you  are  here  now, 
instead  of  at  Mrs.  Sorel's,  is  the  result,  I  pre- 
sume, of  secret  communication  with  the  enemy. 
Besides" — all  in  a  quiver  from  head  to  foot,  her 
hand  wandering  about  her  brow. 

"You  must  permit  me,  Madam,"  interrupts 
Mr.  Arthur,  quite  conscious  of  Alice's  eyes  in 
mute  entreaty,  not  without  color  in  his  cheeks, 
but  never  speaking  in  sick  chamber  or  to  dying 
friend  in  gentler  tones,  "to  withdraw  my  re- 
quest. I  should  not  have  intruded.  I  will  do 
so  no  more.  I  trust  you  will  one  day  do  me  more 
justice." 
"With  a  bow  to  the  ladies  in  leaving,  carefully 


avoiding  Alice's  face  with  his  eyes,  yet  reading 
more  meaning  in  them  none  the  less  than  ever 
before  in  his  life,  the  visitor  is  gone.  And  Alice, 
though  she  never  looks  out  at  the  window  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  night,  is  perfectly  aware, 
amidst  all  the  noise  of  wheels  and  hoofs  and 
feet,  that  Mr.  Arthur  is  keeping  watch  and  ward 
about  them. 

"  I  have  ever  esteemed  Mr.  Arthur  a  gentle- 
man ;  I  have  often  wished  Rutledgc  Bowles 
could  have  known  him;  but  that  he  should  have 
pursued  the  course  he  has  amazes  me.  Mrs. 
Sorel,  too,  positively  bewilders  me.  And  I 
am  told  that  Mr.  Brooks  is  actually  a  Colonel 
in  the  Federal  forces.  It  can  be  nothing,"  said 
Mrs.  Bowles,  with  her  hand  to  her  head,  "but 
insanity,  raving  insanity.  Either  they  are  de- 
ranged"— her  hand  wandering  about  her  brow — 
"  or  I  am,"  added  she,  with  the  use  of  the  stron-: 
gcst  metaphor  in  her  knowledge,  "As  I  have 
told  you  a  thousand  times,  Alice,  my  dear,  I 
wish  you  to  have  no  farther  acquaintance  with 
this  IVIr.  Arthur.  You  have  known  him  for 
years,  but  I  wish  you  always  to  class  him  in  your 
mind  with  Benedict  Arnold — remember,  dear." 

But  Alice  is  thinking,  by  some  strange  coin- 
cidence, of  the  night  of  the  insurrection — how 
they  three  sat  u])  together  on  the  front  j)orch  all 
night  waiting  for  what  did  not,  like  millions  of 
other  things  expected  in  Somervillc,  take  place 
at  last. 

And  so  the  night  wears  away,  neither  mother 
nor  daughter  caring  to  lie  down.  Mrs.  Bowles, 
poor  lady  !  at  one  and  the  same  instant  blaming 
herself  severely  for  having  spoken  so  to  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, and  regretting  that  she  has  not  been  even 
more  bitter  to  him  ;  wondering  that  persons  like 
Mrs.  Sorel  and  her  late  visitor — so  good  and  calm 
and  firm  heretofore — so  calm  and  firm  and  gentle 
now — wondering,  wondering  !  And  Alice,  too, 
so  silent  and  quiet. 

And  so  she  comes  back  with  a  start  to  the  fact 
that  the  Federals  are  coming,  and  that  she  must 
meet  them  with  the  dignity  and  quiet  scorn 
which  behooves  South  Carolina  when. Yankees 
are  in  question. 

And  Alice  ?  Conscious  all  along  of  Mr.  Ar- 
thur keeping  watch  around  the  place ;  now  glow- 
ing with  her  mother  in  heroic  resolve ;  now 
mourning  that  it  is  such  things  as  Secession  and 
Slavery  that  we  must  be  heroic  about ;  imagin- 
ing to  herself  one  Great  Republic  rending  these 
twin  curses  out  of  its  bosom,  and  lifting  itself 
free,  strong,  one  People  henceforth !  But  it  is 
we,  the  South,  who  are  being  whipped,  subju- 
gated. And  so  she  wanders  about  in  the  same 
brambly,  marshy,  darksome  theme,  treading  in 
thought  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left,  as 
upon  tufts  of  tuif  in  a  morass,  upon  the  innu- 
merable yeas  and  nays  of  the  matter,  but  with 
firmer  foot,  in  straighter  course  than  before,  not 
iinconscious  of  broadening  light  ahead. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


179 


Had  it  actually  been  Colonel  Brooks  himself 
Mrs.  Sorel  would  have  l)cen  less  surprised  than 
she  was  when  Brotiier  Barker,  not  two  hours 
after  Mr.  Arthur's  leaving,  presents  himself  be- 
fore her,  after  most  violent  protestations  on  the 
l>art  of  old  Cuti"  at  the  front  gate  and  along  the 
walk — oven  Cuff  scenting  trouble  abroad  to- 
niglit,  and  vigilant  acfcordingly. 
I  "Ah,  Sister  Sorel !" — and  he  has  her  hand  in 
his  before  she  can  believe  her  eyes — "hope  you 
are  well?  And  the  family  too?  And  this  is 
your  little  boy,  Bobby,  I  believe!"  Retaining 
Mrs.  Sorel's  hand  with  his  right,  he  takes  Bob- 
by's with  his  left,  and  so  establishes  double  rap- 
l>ort  with  the  houseliold. 

"What  a  fine  little  fellow — sober  as  a  judge ! 
The  truth  is" — anotiier  shake  of  both  the  hands 
in  his  own — "I  met  Brother  Arthur  in  town, 
and  have  returned  his  horse  for  him.  Please 
have  him  put  up ;  and  it  would  be  well  to  tell 
your  servant — how  are  you,  girl  ?. — not  to  let  the 
boy  give  him  too  much  corn.  Mr.  Arthur  rode 
him  rather  violently."  Another  shake  of  the 
hand  for  both,  and  releasing  them.  Then  the 
visitor,  placing  his  hat  upon  the  table,  takes  a 
seat,  and  adds:  "From  long  experience.  Sister 
Sorel,  I  have  learned  never  to  feed  a  horse 
when  too  warm.  All  are  well,  you  say  ?  Pleased 
to  hear  it.   Excuse  you  a  moment? — certainly." 

For  it  is  Mrs.  Sorel's  first  thought  to  have 
Robby  out  of  the  room,  and  impress  upon  his 
youthful  mind  these  two  things :  First,  not  to 
mention  the  strange  message  given  him ;  nor  to 
allude  to  it  in  any  way. 

"Why,  mother,  do  j'ou  think  I  don't  know?" 
says  Robby,  w^ith  as  much  indignation  as  is  con- 
sistent with  respect. 

"Yes,  mother,"  to  the  next  injunction — to  be 
polite  to  their  new  visitor,  and  to  keep  silence 
generally.  "But  the  best  way  is  for  me  to  go 
to  bed."  Which,  with  a  kiss  to  his  mother,  he 
forthwith  does. 

Immediately  on  her  re-entering  the  room,  her 
emotions,  singularly  like  those  of  Mrs.  Bowles 
with  her  visitor.  Brother  Barker  informs  her 
where  he  met  and  left  Mr.  Arthur — for  whom, 
it  seems,  from  words  and  tones  of  voice,  the  new- 
comer has  an  affection  rather  more  than  merely 
fraternal.  And  so,  with  briefest  possible  allusion 
to  the  expected  raid,  Mr.  Barker  requests  and 
obtains  a  bed — Air.  Arthur's — for  the  night. 

"  In  case  any  armed  men  should  visit  the 
house  during  the  night" — be  lingers  behind  with 
his  candle  to  say  to  his  hostess,  who  has  hardly 
opened  her  lips — "  I  know  you  will  not  mention 
the  fact  of  my  being  concealed  here.  As  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel,  Sister  Sorel,  an  humble 
preacher  of  peace,  I  desire  to  hold  myself  utter- 
ly aloof  from  all  scenes  of  violence  and  strife. 
My  life  is  in  your  hands,  my  sister ;  but  I  am  not 
a  Sisera,  I  am  pleased  to  say,  nor  are  you  a 
murderous  Jael." 


Nor  does  the  sudden  guest,  over  "the  dish  of 
butter  and  milk,"  furnished  him  by  his  harmless 
Jael  next  morning — tiie  night  having  passed  with- 
out event,  save  the  uninterrujited  barking  of  Cuff, 
assisted  by  all  the  other  dogs  on  the  place,  at  the 
pcr])etual  passing  of  travelers — have  any  thing 
to  say  except  to  dwell  upon  the  horrors  of  war 
in  general,  the  absolute  inconsistency  of  the  same 
witli  Christianity.  Tiie  eyes  of  Brother  Barker, 
sunken  as  by  long  illness,  to  say  nothing  of  saU 
lowness  of  visage,  show  how  little  sleep  he  has 
found  that  night  in  Mr.  Arthur's  bed.  How- 
ever, we  were  all  of  us  wide  awake  that  night  in 
Somcrville. 

Robby,  with  lips  visibly  sealed,  places  the  Bible 
upon  the  table  after  breakfast  is  over,  from  force 
of  invariable  habit ;  the  decent  servants  gather 
in  as  usual ;  Mrs.  Sorel,  with  fewest  words,  re- 
quests their  guest  to  take  Mr.  Arthur's  place, 
and  lead  in  worship. 

"We  will  omit  singing,  if  you  please,"  says 
Brother  Barker,  after  reading  the  first  Scripture 
which  comes  up;  "my  voice  might  attract — 
ahem.  Lot  us  pray."  And  having  prayed  for 
every  possible  blessing  upon  that  particular  house- 
hold, with  general  supplications  for  delivery  from 
war,  Mr.  Barker  hastens  through  that  exer- 
cise. 

"  If  it  is  not  too  great  a  favor.  Sister  Sorel : 
if  you  will  give  your  servants  some  charge  to 
keep  silence  :  if  you  will  allow  me  to  occupy 
Brother  Arthur's  room  for  the  present — I  observe 
it  to  be  his  by  the  books  there — I  will  be  obliged." 
And  the  guest  disappears  within  that  room,  the 
curtains  of  which  he  has  carefully  put  down,  but 
appears  again  at  the  sound  of  a  galloping  along 
the  road. 

"Sister  Sorel,"  he  says,  bending,  with  ashy 
face,  over  that  silent  lady  as  slie  sits  at  the  table 
washing  up  the  cups  and  saucers,  "I  have  reason 
to  know  that  my  life  is  in  great  danger;  even 
now  the  foe  may  be  on  my  track.  I  am — am" 
— the  galloping  outside  louder  and  louder — "not 
a  soldier,  I  am" — white  lips  and  trembling  voice 
and  sallowest  of  faces — "  a  poor,  humble  preach- 
er of  the  blessed  Gospel  of  peace.  My  life  is  in 
your  hands,  my  blood  will  be  upon  your  skirts." 

"  Mr.  Barker,  go  to  Mr.  Arthur's  room  and 
remain  there.  Any  thing  an  old  woman  may  be 
able  to  do  for  you  I  will  do.  You  have  no  cause 
of  apprehension." 

And  in  his  room  Brother  Barker  remains,  try- 
ing to  read,  trying  to  pray,  tucking  the  curtains 
so  as  to  conceal  himself  from  any  one  passing, 
listening,  trembling,  enduring  such  agonies  of 
fear  as  waste  him  like  n  spell  of  sickness. 

Mrs.  Warner,  peeping  forth  that  morning,  finds 
the  Federals  in  quiet  possession  of  Somerville. 
We  can  not  be  mathematically  accurate,  but  Mrs. 
Warner  has  said,  a  very  great  number  of  times, 
that  she  only  wished  the  entire  Yankee  nation 
had  one  neck  that  she  might  break  it ;  one  throat 


180 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


that  slie  might  cut  it ;  one  heart  that  she  "  might 
drive  this,"  holding  iij)  tiic  knife  wiiercwith  she 
is  carving  at  table  as  she  sjieaks,  into  their  heart 
to  the  hilt.  Touchstone's  complete  destruction, 
in  words,  of  his  foe ;  Dr.  Slop's  exhaustive  curses 
upon  the  knots  in  the  string  of  his  bag;  Komish 
anathema  in  full,  so  far  as  her  knowledge  of  the 
language  furnishes  her  with  the  words,  her  intel- 
lect witli  the  thoughts,  her  imagination  with  the 
possibilities,  her  heart  with  the  zeal,  has  Mrs. 
Warner  long  ago  equaled  in  imprecation  upon 
the  Federals.  No  Mrs.  Partington  has  ever  swcj)t 
away  the  Atlantic  more  vigorously,  in  anticij)a- 
tion,  than  has  Mrs.  Warner;  yet  now  that  it  is 
actually  over  her  threshold  the  mop  fails  her 
wearied  hand.  She  has  so  exhausted  herself  be- 
fore their  arrival  that  she  can  scarce  even  feel 
any  thing,  except  curiosity,  now  they  have  act- 
ually come.  Probably  this  is  the  reason  why  she 
docs  not  burn  her  house  now,  as  she  has  so  often 
said  she  would  do.  She  has  anii)lc  ojiportunity 
of  shooting  at  them  from  her  windows,  she  has 
almost  sworn  she  would,  yet  she  merely  peeps  at 
them  instead.  . 

Friday  night  they  take  possession.  All  Sat- 
tirday  and  Sunday  they  are  in  possession.  Not 
one  male  Secessionist  visible.  Union  men  quiet 
as  mice.  Guy  Brooks  need  have  sent  no  mes- 
sage to  that  effect. 

The  stores  are  all  closed.  Somerville  has  long 
ago  learned  to  do  that  wlien  even  Confederate 
soldiers  are  in  the  neighborhood.  Over  and 
over  again  have  squads,  half-naked,  two-thirds 
starved,  four-fourths  desperate,,  hcljied  them- 
selves from  the  stores  in  Somerville  to  exactly 
what  they  wanted,  a  good  deal  more  than  they 
could  consume.  It  shocked  us  terribly  at  first, 
but  Mr.  Ellis  and  the  rest  of  us  have  become 
used  to  it.  Only  three  days  before  the  raid  of 
the  Federals,  ^Ir.  Ellis  was  speaking  of  it  to 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts  in  his  store,  on  a  visit  to  his 
family  from  his  duties  in  Richmond. 

"Three  times,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Ellis  to  that  dis-  j 
tinguished  Senator,  "has  my  store  been  sacked 
by  ruffian  soldiers." 

"And  very  probably  will  be  a  dozen  times 
again,"  said  the  Colonel,  very  coolly  indeed. 
If  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  was  a  splendid  black- 
guard, a  brilliant  bully,  an  eloquent,  unprinci- 
pled, thoroughly  plain-spoken  scoundrel  before 
the  schooling  of  the  last  few  years,  tell  us,  oh 
whichever  of  ye  daughters  of  Jupiter  and  ]\Ine- 
mosyne  is  the  Muse  of  History,  what  Colonel 
Ret  Roberts  is  now ! 

"And  my  taxes!"  says  Mr.  Ellis;   "look  at 
it.  Sir.     I  pay  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  on  my 
sales  every  three  months ;   one  per  cent,  more 
for  soldiers'  tax ;    five  per  cent,  on  all  real  es- 
tate ;   eight  per  cent,  on  all  the  wool,  tobacco,  | 
cotton  I  had  on  hand  in  '63 ;  ten  per  cent,  on  \ 
profit  on  sales.     Let  me  see !     Yes,  I  am  taxed  | 
as   a  retail  merchant,  taxed  over  again  as  a 


I  wholesale  merchant.  And  all  this  while  my 
Corjjoration,  County,  State  taxes  are  at  least 
one  hundred  jicr  cent,  heavier  than  they  were 
before  the  war." 

I  "  Certainly.  But  you  may  rest  sure  the  taxes 
!  now  are  nothing  to  what  they  will  bo  next  year," 
says  Colonel  Ret  Roberts,  as  coolly  as  if  stating 
a  desirable  fact,  with  a  soft  of  pleasure  even. 
'  "But  have  you  nothing  encouraging  to  tell 
us?"  asks  Mr.  Ellis,  nervously.  "Your  oppor- 
tunities at  Richmond — " 

I      "I  know  nothing  but  what  you  read  in  the 

papers,''  remarks  the  Senator,  elaborately  paring 

his  finger-nails.     "  You  have  heard  me  from  the 

stumj),  Sir.     If  you  j)eoi>le  at  home  will  sustain 

the  currency,  the  South  will  succeed.    If  you  do 

,  not,  it  won't.     You  know  as  well  as  I  whether 

'  they  will  sustain  it.     We  ara  in  this  thing  ;  all 

we  can  do  is  to — do  what  we  can.     Hold  on, 

!  Lamum  !"  to  that  editor,  who  is  passing,  and 

the  distinguished  Senator  is  gone. 

An  exceeding,  scarcely  disguised,  contempt 
Colonel  Ret  Roberts  had  for  the  people  before 
Secession  ;  his  contempt  now  is  so  great  that  it 
is  not  at  all  disguised.  He  is  elected  for  years 
to  the  Confederate  Senate,  entirely  beyond  the 
favor  of  the  people.  They  stand  so  astounded 
j  by  his  cool  insolence  in  public  and  private  that 
he  has  left  again  for  Richmond  before  they  have 
time  to  recover  themselves. 

I  And  Sabbath  dawns  upon  Somen-ille  still  in 
Federal  occupation,  the  quietness  of  death  upon 
the  population  i)ecping  from  behind  doore  and 
shutters  upon  the  Federal  cavalry  passing  and 
repassing.  After  full  conference  with  friends, 
a  Federal  chaplain  desecrating  Brother  Bark- 
er's puljjit,  the  only  church  beside  his  own  in 
Somerville  open  that  day,  Mr.  Arthur  fills  his 
own  pulpit,  his  sermons  being  exactly  the  same 
they  would  have  been  had  there  been  no  raid. 
Quite  a  large  congregation  too,  to  Mr.  Arthur's 
surprise  ;  almost  all  ladies.  Mr.  Ferguson  sings 
bass,  as  grave  and  cold  in  manner  as  if  war 
were  confined  to  the  Crimea  and  like  distant 
regions.  And  the  Federal  officers  and  men, 
whom  the  ladies  came  to  sec,  are  there,  quiet, 
orderly. 

"Nothing  remarkable  at  last,  every  thing  ex- 
actly as  usual,"  Mrs.  Warner,  at  church  for  the 
first  time  in  many  months,  remarks,  as  she  and 
the  Doctor  walk  home.  And,  beside  a  little 
abuse  of  the  men  who  have  tamely  permitted 
the  Yankees  to  come  here,  Mrs.  Warner  is  strik- 
ingly silent  to-day. 

"  If  I  knew  Colonel  Brooks  was  not  coming 
to  church  I  wouldn't  have  gone,  I  can  tell  you. 
Have  you  seen  him  yet.  Dr.  Warner  ?  Mighty 
shy  you  Union  people  are  of  your  Federal  friends, 
and  they  of  you  !  As  if  I  don't  know  the  reason 
why.  You  all  had  better  be,  I  tell  you ;  if  all 
our  men  are  gone — miserable  cowards  that  the}' 
are ! — there's  plenty  of  women  left  in  Somer- 


INSIDE.— A  fllKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


181 


villc  to  watch  you.  Did  you  notice  that  fat  Mrs. 
Isaac  Smith  at  ciiuicli,  slie  whose  inishaiul  has 
gone  over  to  the  Yankees?  I  watched  at  her 
sitting  there  on  a  side-seat  near  the  pulpit  ex- 
pressly to  look  at  those  Federal  wretches,  look- 
ing wistfully  at  them — expected  to  see  her  hus- 
band among  them,  I  suj)posc.  As  I  live,  there 
she  is  this  moment  going  into  that  Jem  Budd — 
even  'Uia  could  tell  what  that  is  for!" 

It  was  true.  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith  liad  never 
made  a  visit  since  her  liusband  lied.  She  has 
only  a  general  invitation  made  her  years  before 
by  poor,  ])ale  little  Mi"s.  Budd,  the  gun-maker's 
wife;  yet  there  she  is  this  moment,  in  Sunday 
finery  long  laid  aside,  entering  the  door  in  ques- 
tion. Sharp  Mrs.  Warner  sees  it  all  at  a  glance. 
Jem  Budd's  little  one-story  house  is  right  on 
the  most  public  street  in  Somerville ;  its  front 
porch  is  as  good  a  place  as  any  in  the  town  to 
see  all  that  can  be  seen  of  the  Federal  troops. 

Besides,  Jem  Budd  and  Jem  Budd's  harmless 
little  wife  belong  not  only  to  the  one  side  of  the 
great  question  which  rends  Somerville  asunder 
but  also  to  the  other.  Secessionists  say  of  Jem : 
"Oh !  Jem  Budd  is  a  quiet  sort  of  follow,  but  he 
is  all  right  at  heart.  He  doesn't  talk  much,  but 
he  has  said  this,  that,  and  the  other  exceedingly 
severe  things  about  the  Yankees,  and  especially 
about  the  Union  people.  And  then  Alfred  Mor- 
gan, Mrs.  Budd's  brother,  who  left  for  the  war 
years  ago,  we  all  know  that  he  is  a  good  Seces- 
sionist, in  dangerous  and  efficient  service  for  the 
Confederacy  in  the  North.  Jem  doesn't  say 
much  about  it,  but  he  has  shown  letters  from 
Alf  to  that  eft'cct.     Oh,  Jem  is  all  right !" 

"Y'ou  can't  change  a  man's  nature,"  Union 
people  say  to  each  other  of  Jem  Budd.  "  Of 
course  it's  his  interest  to  keep  well  with  the  faith- 
ful ;  it's  the  only  way  to  hold  his  detail  to  fix 
guns  and  stay  out  of  the  army.  As  to  Alf  Mor- 
gan, Jem  can't  help  that.  But  we  all  know  Jem. 
He's  told  me  in  confidence  a  thousand  times  a 
vast  deal  about  the  madness  of  Secession."  There 
were  disadvantages  in  Jem's  course.  Neither 
party  were  thoroughly  cordial  with  him.  Be- 
sides, for  Jem  is  making  money  these  weapon- 
using  days,  he  can  not  refuse  to  give  when  called 
on  to  assist  Union  families  sufiering  for  the  nec- 
essaries of  life  in  the  absence  of  their  husl)ands. 
Far  more  impossible  to  refuse  his  mite  when 
called  on,  as  he  is  about  every  other  week,  to 
contribute  to  some  war  purpose  or  other.  lie 
has  to  pay  for  his  position,  but  he  holds  it  and 
his  tongue  quietly,  firmly. 

"I  took  a  luncii  just  before  coming  to  church, 
ma'am;  please  excuse  me.  But  you  know  my 
house  is  out  of  the  way,  and  I  am  dying  to  sec 
the  Federals.  If  you  have  no  objection,"  Mrs. 
Isaac  Smith  says  to  little  jiale  Mrs.  Budd,  who 
lives  in  her  own  house  as  closely  as  a  snail,  and 
keeps  no  servant,  and  who,  a  good  deal  aston- 
ished at  the  apparition  of  stout  Mrs.   Smith, 


whom  she  has  not  seen  for  so  long,  invites  her 
from  the  ])arlor  in  to  dinner. 

It  is  all  very  well  when,  dinner  over,  Jem 
Budd  smoking  his  pipe  in  one  corner  of  the  fire- 
])lace  for  the  convenience  of  spitting,  Mrs.  Budd 
oj>|)osite  him  in  her  easy-chair,  Airs.  Isaac  Smith 
filling  with  her  portly  person  the  chasm  be- 
tween, the  three  fall  into  a  (jiiiet,  confidential 
chat.  At  least  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith,  greatly  fresh- 
ened up  by  the  blue  shirts  she  has  seen  at  church, 
talks,  anil  the  others  listen. 

First,  she  tells  all  she  has  seen  and  heard  at 
church,  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Budd  haven't  entered 
any  church  for  years  now;  Jem  Budd,  a  mem- 
ber of  Brother  Barker's  church,  too.  Next,  Mrs, 
Isaac  Smith,  by  natural  transition,  speaks  of 
Mr.  Arthur  ;  to  all  of  which,  Jem  Budd,  on  one 
side,  saying  "Exactly"  when  Mrs.  S.  appeals  to 
him;  pale  little  Mrs.  Budd,  on  the  other  side, 
says,  when  she  is  appealed  to,  "  Just  so,  ma'am." 
By  natural  ti'ansition,  too,  Brother  Barker  is  next 
on  the  carjiet.  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith  waxes  warmer 
as  she  recounts  some  of  that  divine's  violent  re- 
marks in  and  out  of  the  puljiit.  To  this,  also, 
Mr.  Budd,  when  directly  appealed  to  for  his  sen- 
timents, says  "Precisely,"  and  Mrs.  Budd,  "Just 
as  you  sa}-,  ma'am."  Next,  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith 
asks  in  general  terms  after  Mrs.  Budd's  absent 
brother.  She  has  heard  what  a  bitter  Secession- 
ist Alf  Morgan  is ;  how  actively  and  terribly  at 
work  for  the  Confederacy  he  is  at  the  North. 
So  she  asks  after  him  as  under  a  sort  of  protest. 
At  the  North  somewhere,  and  well,  when  last 
heard  from,  is  all  Jem  and  his  wife  can  inform 
her  on  that  point. 

Her  entire  being,  day  and  night,  flowing  in 
one  channel,  her  husband  who  is  away,  ]\Irs.  S. 
tells  for  the  ten  thousandth  time  that  Isaac  would 
never  have  left  if  it  wasn't  they  were  forcing  him 
into  the  army.  Isaac  has  his  faults — who  of  us 
has  not?  Isaac  is  a  peaceful  man — didn't  want 
to  fight  on  either  side  if  he  could  help  it.  But 
Isaac  could  not  fight  for  what  he  believed  to  be 
a  wicked — rebellion.  Mrs.  S.  rather  hesitates  be- 
fore bringing  out  this  last  word,  but  Mrs.  Budd 
only  replies,  "As  you  say,  ma'am,"  while  her 
husband  merely  puffs  another  cloud  of  smoke, 
and  adds,  to  the  tearful  eyes  of  Mrs.  Isaac  di- 
rected to  him,  "  Exactly  so." 

Like  other  large  bodies  broad  Mrs.  Smith  does 
not  easily  get  started  ;  but  once  started,  mo- 
mentum being  in  ])roportion  to  weight,  it  is  very 
hard  for  her  to  stop. 

"Of  course  you  have  heard  of  how  they  mur- 
dered my  brother  John  Jennings?"  she  asks  of 
Mrs.  Budd. 

"Goodness  gracious,  what's  that?"  she  adds 
in  the  same  breath. 

"  That  ?  What  ?"  asks  Jem,  nervously,  while 
poor  Mrs.  Budd  is  several  degrees  paler  than 
before. 

"Hal   must  have  been  mistaken,  of  course  ; 


182 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


thought  I  heard  somebody  under  the  floor.    But 
I  am  so  nervous !"  says  Mrs.  Smith. 

"Thought  you  heard  somebody  under  the 
floor!"  and  Mr.  Budd  exclaims  this  in  singular- 
ly loud  tones,  as  if  addressed  to  some  one  at  a 
distance,  and  resumes  his  jiipe. 

"Your  brother,  ma'am?  there  are  so  many 
murdered,  you  know,  one  can  not  remember  ex- 
actly," says  pale,  little  Mrs.  Budd,  eagerlv",  quick- 
ened a  good  deal  by  the  overflowing  warmth 
of  her  visitor  by  this  time.  Mr.  Budd  smokes 
with  inquiring  pufl's.  And  so  Mrs.  Smith  enters 
on  the  murder,  describes  it  minutely,  tells  the 
destitute  condition  of  the  family  left — all  with 
such  a  natural  eloquence  that  even  stolid  Jem 
Budd  is  afi'ected.  So  much  so  that  when  Mrs. 
Smith  says  at  last,  suddenly,  "You  knew  John 
Jennings  well,  Mr.  Budd  ;  you  know  I've  only 
told  you  the  truth  ;  now  what  do  you  think  of  a 
cause  which  permits,  even  justifies  such  a  thing 
as  that  ?"  Mr.  Budd  removes  the  pipe  from  his 
mouth  and  begins  : 

"  So  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  ma'am — " 

"Jem!  My  dear?"  interrupts  his  wife  from 
the  other  side  with  a  cry,  and  holding  up  a  warn- 
ing hand. 

And  well  it  is  for  Mr.  Budd.  Though  his 
wife  does  not  know  it,  there  is  a  tap  upon  the 
door,  and  in  walks — of  all  persons  in  the  world 
— Mrs.  Smithers. 

Mrs.  Smithers !  We  write  the  word  reluctant- 
ly, knowing  how  hopeless  it  is  to  portray  her 
upon  the  page.  Let  us  see  what  our  recording 
that  she  was  a  very  tall,  a  very  long  and  red  in 
the  face,  a  very  violent  female  in  temper  and 
language  will  do.  Mrs.  Smithers's  brothers  are 
known,  all  six  of  them,  as  desperadoes  who 
have  long  ago  killed  their  men.  Mrs.  Smithers 
is  said  to  be  a  good  shot  with  rifle,  double-bar- 
rel shot-gun,  revolver.  The  way  Mrs.  Smithers 
is  known,  with  her  own  bony  hands,  to  cowhide 
her  erring  negro  women,  has  wakened  even  Mrs. 
Warner's  reprobation.  Her  nearest  neighbors 
are  exceeding  respectful  to,  and  shy  of,  Mrs. 
Smithers,  not  knowing  what  instant  a  chicken 
from  their  yard  into  her  garden,  or  a  quarrel  be- 
tween her  children  and  theirs,  may  bring  her 
down  upon  them  with  some  deadly  weapon,  or 
more  deadly  tongue.  As  to  her  having  hurled, 
in  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  that  negro  babe  which 
would  keep  crawling  in  upon  her  recently-scoured 
floor,  down  the  hill  back  of  the  house,  we  re- 
ject all  that  story  of  course,  knowing,  as  we  all 
do,  that  negro  testimony  is  no  evidence. 

But  we  knew  we  could  convey  no  adequate 
idea  of  Mrs.  Smithers,  the  postmaster's  wife, 
when  we  began.  Mr.  Jem  Budd  had  such  an 
idea,  however,  and  the  instant  she  entered  the 
room  he  uttered  a  "Whew!"  none  the  less  in- 
tense from  being  altogether  internal.  Publicly, 
meeting  them  on  the  street,  had  Mrs.  Smithers 
refused  and  resented  the  salutation  of  more  than 


one  Union  man  of  her  previous  acquaintance. 
The  Union  ladies,  met  by  her  casually  in  stores 
and  at  funerals,  she  had  not  contented  herself 
with  refusing  to  speak  to,  but  had  looked  at 
them  in  a  way  which  had  sent  more  than  one  of 
them  from  shopping  and  visiting  home  and  to 
bed.  Being  of  a  fighting  stock,  Mrs.  Smithers 
was  true  to  the  breed— even  her  brothers,  with 
many  an  oath,  admitted  that. 

As  Mrs.  Smithers  entered,  oft'ensively  ignored 
the  existence  of  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith,  and  took  the 
liand  and  the  seat  which  poor,  pale  little  Mrs." 
Budd  oftered  her,  Mr.  Budd  saluted  her  and 
withdrew ;  remembered  in  the  hall  the  feeble 
state  of  his  wife's  health  and  returned ;  really 
could  not  risk  it,  when  back  in  the  parlor,  and 
retired ;  feared,  when  half-way  out  of  his  front 
gate,  that  his  wife  might  faint,  perhaps  die,  and 
so  returned  again.  He  has  an  inspiration,  he 
will  efil'ct  a  diversion. 

"Bad  news  I  hear  this  morning,"  he  begins, 
after  the  usual  salutations  are  over— Mrs.  Isaac 
Smith  will  not,  Mrs.  Budd  can  not  speak,  no- 
thing kft  for  him.  As  the  husband  of  his  wife, 
the  head  of  the  household,  the  only  chance  is  to 
keep  the  conversation  in  his  own  hand  till  one 
of  the  visitors  shall  dejjart — any  subject  on  earth 
rather  than  of  the  Federals  just  arrived. 

"What  news  is  that,  Mr.  Budd?"  asks  Mrs. 
Smithers,  reserving,  "It's  a  lie,"  in  the  corners 
of  her  eyes  and  upon  the  tip  of  her  tongue. 

And  having  mentioned  it  simply  that,  being 
ui)pern)ost  in  his  mind,  it  came  first  in  the  hurry 
of  being  compelled  to  say  something  instantly, 
Mr.  Jem  Budd  narrates  the  fact  of  the  suicide 
of  the  District  Judge  of  a  Southern  State.  Nor 
had  Mr.  Ferguson  been  so  interested  in  the  oc- 
cupation of  Somerville  as  not,  that  very  day,  to 
have  entered  the  same  in  his  Scrap-book.  Had 
he  not  foretold  it  ? 

"Drunk  or  crazy,"  is  the  verdict  of  Mrs. 
Smithers,  relieved  to  know  it  is  only  that. 

Jem  Budd,  toiling  more  vigorously  for  another 
toi)ic  than  he  ever  does  upon  gun-lock  or  barrel, 
stumbles  upon  the  case  of  the  refugees.  Tells 
how  they  are  pouring  into  the  region  about 
Somerville ;  how  poor  they  are,  how  sorry  they 
all  seem  to  be  that  they  ever  abandoned  their  old 
homes ;  thinks  it  a  great'sharae  people  should  re- 
ceive them  so  coldly. 

"Serve  them  right.  Why  didn't  they  stay 
where  they  were  and  fight  the  Yankees?"  is  Mrs. 
Smithers's  opinion,  who  gives  only  half  atten- 
tion to  her  host,  casting  about  in  her  mind  how 
best  and  soonest  to  assault  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith. 

"H.ive  you  noticed,  Mr.  Budd,"  asks  Mrs. 
Isaac  Smith,  advancing  her  skirmishers,  "how 
all  the  papers  agree  about  the  swindling  going 
on  by.  Government  officials  ?  Every  single  pa- 
per! Charges  made  by  judges,  findings  by 
grand  juries  and  by  little  juries,  every  body  knows 
it,  universal  corruption  and  swindling.     From 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


183 


the  highest  to  the  lowest,  all  the  officials  at  it, 
the  papers  say."  Because  tlie  lady  speaking  has 
heard  very  often  of  the  remarks  made  in  refer- 
ence to  herself  by  the  tigress  at  her  side — infi- 
nitely more  than  that,  the  very  often  expressed 
wish  of  Mi-s.  Smithcrs  has  come  to  her  ears,  to 
hang  that  red-headed  painter.  Smith,  abolition- 
ist and  traitor,  with  her  own  hands.  Nor  does 
the  least  donbt  linger  in  the  mind  of  any  of  Mrs. 
Smithers's  circle  of  friends  but  she  would  do  just 
that  tiling  if  she  had  but  the  clianee. 

"I  have  noticed  it,  ma'am."  says  sorcly-jier- 
l)lcxed  Mr.  Budd,  "but  have  thougiit" — with 
special  reference  to  Mrs.  Smithers — "our  pa- 
pers ought  not  to  publish  such  tilings  at  this 
time." 

"I  suppose  you  notice,  Mrs.  Budd,  how  sick 
even  the  Yankees  arc,  from  their  own  i)apers, 
with  that  vile  Lincoln  ?  All  we  have  to  do  is 
to  keep  whipping  thera  till  his  term  is  out; 
they'll  be  only  too  glad  to  make  peace  with  tis 
then,  if  tliey  don't  lia^^e  a  revolution  among 
tliemselves  before  that,"  says  Mrs.  Smithers. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Budd  retaining  their  seats  on 
opposite  corners  of  the  fire-jjlace,  the  two-visit- 
ors between  them,  Mrs.  Isaac  Smitli  being  next 
to  Mrs.  Budd,  Mrs.  Smithers  to  Mr.  Budd  ;  Mrs. 
Smith  having  addressed  her  remarks  in  refer- 
ence to  the  refugees  across  Mrs.  Smithers  to 
Mr.  Budd,  in  contempt  of  that  lady,  Mrs.  Smith- 
ers addresses,  of  course,  her  conversation  across 
portly  Mrs.  Smith,  and  in  utter  ignorance  of  her 
exisience,  to  Mrs.  Budd.  Conversation  will  bo- 
come  platted  together  in  this  way,  even  in  ordina- 
17  times  and  under  friendly  auspices  all  around. 
Even  then  it  is  hard  at  times  for  the  couples 
thus  engaged  to  keep  their  threads  of  talk  un- 
tangled. It  is  peculiarly  difficult  to-day  in  Jem 
Budd's  parlor. 

"As  you  say,  ma'am,"  pale  little  Mrs.  Budd 
replies,  across  Mrs.  Smith  to  Mrs.  Smithers. 

"But  isn't  it  strange,  Mr.  Budd,  people  won't 
take  Confederate  money  ?  It's  the  most  miser- 
able trash,  no  better  than  brown  paper !"  says 
Mrs.  Smith,  across  Mrs.  Smithers. 

— "  and  they  actually  force  the  miserable  peo- 
jile  to  take  their  greenbacks  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet!"  continues  Mrs.  Smithers  to  Mrs. 
Budd,  heating  with  indignation  at  Mr.  Budd's 
bare  "Precisely,  ma'am,"  in  reply  to  his  in- 
terlocutor, disregarding  the  "  So  I've  heard, 
ma'am,"  which  she  gets  from  hers. 

=-"  could  hardly  believe  what  I  hear  every 
day  of  how  poor  people  are  getting  among  us. 
A  good  many  can't  send  their  children  to  Sab- 
bath-school, nor  day-school  either,  for  want  of 
clothes.  Can't  even  put  their  foot  out  of  their 
own  yard  themselves.  What  a  terrible  condition 
we  are — " 

*  —"universal  infidelity  there  now,  ma'am," 
from  Mrs.  Smithers,  drowns  Mr.  Budd's  "  'Tis, 
indeed  1" 


— "tliat,  of  course,  is  worse.  Backsliding? 
Worse  than  that,  Mr.  Budd !  Open  gambling, 
drinking,  swearing,  stealing,  and  worse.  The 
prcachci-s  tliemselves — " 

— "can  you  wonder  at  it?  Only  wonder, 
ma'am,  is  tliey  haven't  left,  all  of  them  long  ago, 
wretched  traitors  to  tiieir  country  !  Anxious  to 
leave!  I'd  iielj)  tiiem  in  a  shorter  way  than  they 
ever — ''  But  Mrs.  Smitlicrs's  remark  only  lies 
across,  by  no  means  extinguishes. 

— "  because  the  Union  people  among  us  know 
the  awful  times  wliich  are  coming.  I'm  told, 
Mr.  Budd,  the  jicoplc  driven  oft"  are  sworn  to 
kill  every — "  from  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith,  while  the 
"As  you  say,  ma'am,"  from  Mr.  Budd  and  the 
"  I  fear  so,  indeed,"  from  Mrs.  Budd  are  made 
no  account  of  by  either  belligerent  a»  the  strife 
grows  hotter. 

— "even  to  the  last  drop  of  our  blood,  ma'am, 
and  if  the  war  should  last  ten  thousand — " 

— "said  it  was  kept  up  only  by  the  women, 
and  especially  the  Secession  preachers  at  home. 
The  army  is  sick  enough  of  it,  you  may  be  sure. 
Why,  Mr.  Budd,  I  got  a  letter,  I  mean  a  person 
told  me — " 

— "for  of  all  things  in  this  world,  ma'am,  a 
traitor  to  one's  own  soil  they  were  born  on,  and 
a  slie-tniitor  is  a  tiling  I  do — " 

— "always  so,  Mr.  Budd.  Yankee  Secession- 
ists are  the  craziest,  just  as  Yankee  masters  and 
mistresses  are  the  hardest  upon  their  poor  ne- 
groes." 

The  conversation  becomes  more  tangled  as  it 
becomes  more  personal. 

Mr.  Budd  has  firm  hold  of  the  pipe  between 
his  teeth,  long  since  gone  out,  and  only  repeats 
his  "  Brecisely  so.  Exactly,  ma'am,"  from  me- 
chanical habit.  Poor,  pale,  little  rabbit  of  a 
Mrs.  Budd,  witli  firm  hold  upon  the  arms  of  her 
easy-chair,  fascinated  by  Mrs.  Smithers's  terrible 
eye,  no  more  hears  what  that  fiery  visaged  lady 
says  than  if  slie  was  deaf,  only  is  conscious  of  a 
steady  rattle  of  words,  and  gasps  her  affirma- 
tives at  regular  intervals. 

But  the  conversation  becomes  more  closely 
welded  together  as  it  heats. 

"Quantrel." 

"Beast  Butler." 

"Wretched  Repudiator." 

"  Despicable  Gorilla." 

"Who  wouldn't  get  fat  as  a  beef,  ma'am, 
when  one  is  rid  of  a  drunken  husband  ?" 

"Six,  Mr.  Budd,  six  brothers,  murderers." 

"Used  to  lie  dead  drunk,  ma'am." 

"Has  swindled  with  sugar  speculations  un- 
til—" 

"Abolitionist,  who  ought  to  be." 

"Actually  whipped  her,  Mr.  Budd,  until  the 
bones — " 

Mr.'Budd  closes  his  teeth  harder  on  his  pipe- 
stem,  Mrs.  Budd  clutches  firmer  hold  of  the  arms 
of  her  chair,  the  catastrophe  must  be  near — 


184 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


A  long  clear  bugle  blast  out  of  doors !  Mr. 
Jem  Budd  sees  his  only  hope. 

"The  Federal  cavalry,  ladies!"  and  hurries 
out  of  his  front-door,  in  a  manner  washing  with 
extended  arms  his  angry  visitors  before  him  upon 
the  front  porch,  leaving  Mrs.  Budd  utterly  ex- 
hausted in  her  easy-chair  behind.  And  if  the 
company  had  not  made  so  much  noise  and  been 
in  so  great  haste  in  leaving  the  room  they  would 
have  heard  a  distinct  sound  from  beneath  the 
floor  upon  which  they  were.  It  may  have  been 
a  mouse  or  a  bat.  It  did  not  sound  like  hug  or 
dog.  Perhaps  a  parrot  had  made  his  hole  there, 
for  it  sounded  exactly  like  the  words  "Good! 
Thank  God  !"  What  makes  it  strangest  of  all  is, 
that  Mrs.  Budd,  the  instant  she  is  alone,  is  on 
her  knees  on  the  floor,  and,  with  white  cheeks, 
says  in  low,  sharp  tones,  "For  God's  sake,  Alf, 
be  quiet,"  her  lips  almost  touching  the  carpet. 

The  Federal  cavalry  coming  up  the  street  at 
a  slow  walk,  and  so  very  many,  apparently, 
rough,  bearded,  powerful- looking  men,  too; 
moving  in  much  more  of  a  military  manner 
than  such  Confederate  soldiers  as  wc  have  seen. 
Mrs.  Smith  and  Mrs.  Smithers  stand,  side  by 
side,  upon  the  elevated  porch,  both  thrilling  with 
deepest  feeling,  but  of  quite  a  different  nature. 
Guy  Brooks — erect,  sad-visagcd,  more  powerful 
in  appearance  than  ever — rides  slowly  and  at 
the  head  of  the  column.  As  he  approaches,  his 
eye  catches  that  of  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith.  So  far 
he  has  carefully  avoided  speaking  to  any  of  the 
Union  people,  for  the  best  of  reasons.  There  is 
something  in  her  broad,  earnest  face,  something 
so  wistful  in  her  eyes,  that  he  forgets  himself, 
and  salutes  her.  Just  a  scarce-perceptible  lift- 
ing of  the  forefinger  of  the  gauntleted  hand  to 
the  cap. 

It  is  the  drop  too  much.  Bless  you !  Mrs. 
Isaac  Smith  has  not  been  in  the  School  of  Pru- 
dence all  these  years  since  Isaac  left,  for  no- 
thing. She  had  resolved  to  be  prudent  before 
she  left  home ;  she  had  told  Sarah  Jennings 
over  and  over  again,  "  Oh,  I'll  be  careful,  Sarah, 
you  never  fear."  She  had  even  made  a  special 
])rayer,  kneeling  by  her  bed  that  morning,  after 
she  had  put  on  her  best  bonnet  and  all,  that  she 
might  be  prudent.  But  perhaps  her  late  en- 
gagement with  Mrs.  Smithers  has  "overhet" 
her,  as  she  afterward  explains  the  matter.  As 
Colonel  Brooks  touches  his  hat  she  rushes  back 
into  the  parlor,  snatches  from  prostrate  Mrs. 
Budd  her  handkerchief — she  had  left  her  own, 
to  avoid  the  temptation,  at  home — and,  standing 
beside  Mrs.  Smithers,  waves  it  to  the  Federals, 
continues  waving  it  vehemently ! — the  tears  run- 
ning copiously  down  her  unconscious  cheeks. 

But  if  she  waves  her  handkerchief  at  the  Fed- 
erals, Mrs.  Smithers,  advancing  to  the  extreme 
edge  of  the  porch,  shakes  her  fist  at  them  :  a 
long  arm  has  tall,  red,  hard  -  featured  ]Mrs. 
Smithers,  and  a  fist  that  has  knocked  many  a 


negro  child  over,  as  well  as  her  own,  for  that 
matter.  Handkerchief  and  fist  so  energetically 
flourished,  side  by  side,  send  a  peal  of  laughter 
down  the  column — even  Guy  Brooks  laughs  out- 
right. 

But  Mrs.  Smith  has  bid  farewell  to  her  wits 

"  They've  murdered  Hoi  Bobbins,  Mr.  Brooks ! 
they've  hung  John  Jennings !  you  knew  him,  Mr. 
Brooks — old  John  Jennings,  my  own  brother ! 
For  God's  sake  don't  march  away  and  leave 
us  !"  she  cries,  with  the  cry  of  anguish  peculiar 
to  a  woman  beside,  say,  a  drowning  child. 
Handkerchief  hard  at  work. 

"Tut-traitor!  Tut-traitor!  Tut-traitor!" 
screams  Mrs.  Smithers,  with  the  yell  of  fury 
peculiar  to  a  furiou.s  female  in  her  fiercest  fury, 
fist  shaken  almost  to  dislocation. 

"May  God  bless  you  !"  cries  Mrs.  Isaac  Smith, 
her  entire  soul  as  well  as  body  in  each  separate 
word. 

"May  the  devil—"  But  the  rest  of  Mrs. 
Smithers's  wish,  though  in  the  highest  and  shrill- 
est of  screams,  is  drowned  in  the  cheer  for  Mrs. 
Smith,  which  rings  once  again,  again,  down  the 
column,  every  man  of  whom  by  this  time  enters 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

It  is  full  half  an  hour  after  both  their  lady 
visitors  are  gone  that  Jem  and  his  wife  can  re- 
alize it' all. 

"  That  it  should  have'  taken  place  of  all  the 
houses  in  Somerville  at  wy  house!"  said  Jem 
Budd  to  himself  over  and  over  and  over  again ; 
"and  when  I've  worked  so  hard  ever  since  the 
thing  began  to  keep  well  with  both  sides.  It  is 
too  bad  !" 

Mrs.  Budd  has  long  since  gone  to  bed  seri- 
ously ill. 

"But  I  don't  blame  her  a  bit,  not  one  bit  ei- 
ther," adds  Jem  just  as  often,  strictly  to  himself 
however,  glancing  around  even  then  to  be  sure 
no  one  is  by.  though  it  is  midnight,  and  Jem  is 
in  his  own  chamber.  His  reference  is  to  Mrs. 
Isaac  Smith. 

He  then  falls  upon  his  knees,  although  not,  it 
would  seem,  for  devotional  purposes.  With  his 
lips  to  the  floor  he  says, 

"Had  plenty  of  supper,  Alf?" 

"Plenty,  Jem,"  from  below.  It  must  be  a 
parrot. 

"Good-night,  pld  fellow  !     Fun,  wasn't  it?" 

"Guess  it  was.  Good-night!"  from  below 
again. 

I  "  Remind  me,  Mr.  Smithers,  to  take  my  Der- 
ringer with  me  whenever  I  go  out,"  says  Mrs. 
Smithers  to  her  husband  that  night  in  conclu- 
sion. "If  ever  I  meet  that  woman  I'll  spit  in 
her  round  old  moon  of  a  face,  as  sure  as  my  name 
is  Araminty.  If  she  says  a  word  to  that.  111  put 
a  bullet  just  as  deep  into  her  old  carcass  as  the 
Derringer  can  carrj' !"  ' 

"Needn't  talk  to  me,  Sarah  Jennings,  child. 
I  didn't  intend  it  when  I  went  to  church  this 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


185 


THE  HANDKEKCHIEF   AND   THE  HST. 


morning.  I  couldn't  help  it.  And,  what  is 
more,  I  don't  care  one  single  cent.  Let  them 
hang  me  if  they  want  to,  lil<e  they  hung  your 
pa.  It's  in  a  good  cause,  God  knows.  I'm  tired 
of  my  life  any  way,  Isaac  gone  so  long.    Humph, 


but  only  let  her  try  it !  But  oh,  won't  we  settle 
with  these  people  when  the  old  flag  is  here  again 
for  good !  Not  that  I  want  their  life  ;  may  the 
Lord  forgive  me,  nol" 

As  to  Mr.  Pcrguson,  when,  on  Jlonday  morn- 


186 


INSIDE.— A  ClIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


ing,  he  lugs  out  the  Scrap-book  from  its  Sab- 
bath rest  in  the  iron  safe,  to  the  bulletin  of  the 
arrival  of  the  Federals  on  the  previous  Friday 
night  he  has  to  add  their  leaving  during  Sun- 
day night.  It  is  a  week  or  two  before  he  can 
make  an  accurate  statement  of  the  number  of 
negroes  and  Confederate  stores  they  have  taken 
away  with  them.  One  thing  he  knows,  grim 
and  silent  during  the  whole  raid  as  the  Sphinx 
lit  midnight — no  one  can  touch  him  for  it ;  not 
a  word,  gesture,  wink  to  found  any  thing  upon. 

But  it  seemed  strange  to  Kobby,  riding  a  week 
after  upon  his  jjony  past  Staples's  Hotel,  to  hear 
the  way  in  which  Dr.  Peel,  absent  on  i)ressing 
business  from  Somcrvillc  a  fortnight  now,  curses 
the  Federals,  and  Guy  Brooks  especially.  Yet 
Robby  only  seals  his  sober  face  into  still  more 
sober  silence,  and  rides  about  his  errand,  earn- 
estly hoping  he  may  not  have  to  engage  in  an- 
other fight  this  time. 

And  so  Somcrvillc  gets  past  that  point  in  its 
history. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

It  really  must  not  be  indulged  in,  this  tend- 
ency to  loiter  along  the  way — a  tendency  caused 
by  birth  and  long  residence  under  Southern 
skies.  We  must  quicken  our  pace  over  these 
pages  to  keep  up  with  events  falling  in  rapid 
succession. 

There  is  the  march  of  the  Fedemils  upon  At- 
lanta. The  Somerville  Star  has  kept  all  of  us 
in  Somerville  fully  aware  of  every  thing  relating 
to  that.  It  is  a  thrilling  narrative  as  told  us 
from  Star  to  Star.  Let  us  think.  We  give  up 
Chattanooga,  a  place  of  no  use  to  the  Federals, 
and  the  abandonment  of  which  is  a  positive  ad- 
vantage to  the  Confederate  cause  in  every  way — 
there  is  a  motive  in  it.  That  motive  we  all  un- 
derstand and  exult  in  when  we  have  the  Star 
and  all  the  bells  in  town  triumphant  over  the 
total  defeat  of  Rosecrans  soon  after,  and  the  re- 
occupation  of  Chattanooga,  capturing  therein 
stores  and  munitions  of  war  enough  to  supply 
the  whole  South  for  two  years. 

Captain  Simmons,  standing  in  Jem  Budd's 
shop,  is  full,  as  Jem,  in  paper  cap,  dirty  face, 
leatliern  apron,  files  and  tinkers  away  at  his 
gun-making  and  mending,  of  it.  During  two 
hours  lie  discusses  with  Jem  the  splendid  strat- 
egy of  General  Bragg,  and  its  comiilete  success ; 
to  all  of  which  Jem  says,  at  intervals,  "As  you 
say.  Captain."  "Exactly  so.  Sir."  "Just what 
I  say."  "Precisely."  "  Yes,  5iV;  of  that  we 
may  be  sure." 

Yet  when,  not  a  week  after,  Dr.  Warner,  in 
attendance  upon  poor,  pale  little  Mrs.  Budd, 
upon  whom  he  is  always  in  attendance  for  that 
matter,  says  to  Jem,  sitting  in  the  room,  by  the 
fireside  for,  the  convenience  of  spitting  as  he 


smokes:  "And  so  it  turns  out  that  the  Federals 
were  not  driven  out  of  Chattanooga,  Mr.  Budd. 
Having  read  the  accounts  of  the  way  in  which 
they  had  fortified  themselves  there,  I  really  did 
not  for  a  moment  suppose  that  other  report  was 
true,  did  you?"  Jem  sj)its  and  replies,  "Cer- 
tainly not,"  and  weaves  in  his  habitual  affirma- 
tives to  all  that  Dr.  Warner  has  to  say. 

"Eighteen  months  I"  the  Doctor  ejaculates  a 
moment  after.  "People  at  the  North  wouldn't 
believe  it.  And  the  way  you  have  managed  to 
kecj)  it  close,  too !  I  have  feared  a  hundred 
times — " 

"  See,  Doctor,"  breaks  in  Jem,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth  in  order  to  lower  his  tone,  "  Alf 
couldn't  get  shot  of  conscription  any  other  way. 
You  know  how  we  hammered  at  it  for  ever  so 
long  before  we  could  fi.x  it  up.  The  cellar  was 
Mrs.  Budd's  notion ;  we  laughed  at  it,  Alf  and 
I,  at  first.  Tlien  we  all  thought,  when  Alf  first 
hid  there,  the  war  would  'a  been  over  long  ago. 
He's  tlicre,  and  there's  nothing  else  to  d(»»but 
stay  there  that  I  can  see;"  and  Jem  resumes  his 
pipe. 

"  Why,  he's  making  a  fortune  in  shoes,  man, 
if  your  wife  does  get  the  credit  of  it.  But  what 
preposterous  letters  he  writes !  Dr.  Ginnis  was 
giving  me  all  the  contents  of  that  last  one  from 
New  York,"  says  Dr.  Warner,  with  glee.  "I 
could  hardly  keep  it  in." 

"  Oh,  that's  Alf's  fun  ;  only  recreation  he  has, 
Doctor,"  pleads  Mi-s.  Budd,  whose  whole  exist- 
ence is  invested  in  Alf  and  Jem.  "  But  you 
can't  tell  how  comfortable  he  is  down  there. 
Often  comes  up  after  night.  Alf  s  got  as  fair  as 
a  girl  there  out  of  the  sun.  But  oh!  if  the  war 
would  only  end !  I  am  so  tired,  tired  !  And 
Mrs.  Isaac  Smith  came  so  near  finding  Alf  out 
that  day.  It  would  kill  me  if  they  was  to  get 
Alf,"  adds  poor  little  Mrs.  Budd.  "And  he 
won't  go  with  the  Federals  now  he  has  a  chance. 
Says  he  wants  to  see  it  out  here  in  Somerville ; 
as  if  he  sees  any  thing !" 

"You  see,  Mr.  Budd,"  says  Dr.  Warner  at 
last,  perfectly  grave  as  he  rises  to  leave,  "we 
Secessionists  are  pursuing  a  masterly  policy. 
You  will  not  forget  to  give  Mrs.  Budd  the  pow- 
ders ;  those  last  bells  were  a  little  too  much  for 
her." 

"And  j'ou  really,  really  do  think — "  says  pale 
little  Mrs.  Budd,.  smiling  through  the  borders  of 
her  preposterously  beruffled  night-cap.  With 
clergymen,  sea-captains,  and  physicians  women 
are  always  confidential. 

"I  really,  really  do,  ma'am,"  replies  Dr.  War- 
ner, with  unctuous  energy.     "Just  wait  a  little. 
Yes,  a  masterly  policy.     We  are  retreating  to- 
ward Atlanta  only  to  draw  the  Federals  deeper 
'  into  the  country,  away  from  their  base,  their 
'  gun-boats,  and  all  that.     Oh,  don't  let  any  fear 
of  that  keep  you  sick ;  we  are  bound  to  whip 
\  them.     Your  husband  will  tell  you  the  same." 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


187 


And  Jem  Budd,  witli  a  responsive  grin  upon  his 
usually  sedate  countenance,  says,  "  Exactly  what 
I  say,  Lucy.  Oh,  we'll  whip  'em,  we'll  whip 
'em  !" 

Only  there  is  more  smiling  all  around  than 
tlie  conversation,  ajiart  from  its  peculiar  tone, 
would  warrant  —  a  degree  of  cordiality,  too, 
among  the  parties. 

"And  Alice  Bowles  is  actually  teaching 
school  ?"  asks  Mrs.  Budd  as  Dr.  Warner  is  draw- 
ing on  his  gloves. 

"  Hard  at  it,  ma'am.  You  mustn't  think 
badly  of  her  when  I  tell  you,  with  her  absurd 
raising,  it  was  death  almost  to  her  to  do  it.  She 
always  was  a  noble  girl.  Tiiey  are  very  much 
pressed,  you  know  we  all  are  now,  but  very  much 
pressed  indeed.  The  discipline  she  is  enduring 
is  the  very  thing  for  her,  be  the  making  of  her," 
says  the  physician. 

"I  always  thought  so  much  of  Alice,"  says 
weak  little  Mrs.  Budd,  "  because  she  is  so  pretty 
and  strong.  She  often  comes  to  see  me.  She 
knows  all  about  Alf.  How  she  laughed  when  I 
told  her !  Ah  me !  Doctor,  I  never  was  very 
strong ;  but  once,  years  ago,  Jem  there,  at  least 
he  said  so — " 

"Thought  you  were  very  pretty,  ma'am,"  in- 
terrupts the  Doctor,  "and  was  jjerfectly  right, 
ma'am.  Only  wait  until  you  get  your  health 
again,  Mrs.  Bndd — until  our  glorious  independ- 
ence is  secured,  you  know!" 

"Just  what  I  tell  Lucy,"  adds  her  husband, 
with  a  smile.  Mrs.  Budd  is  not  the  only  pretty 
girl  whose  beauty  gives  place  to  ill  health  within 
a  very  few  years  after  marriage  in  southern 
climes — fair,  frail  creatures,  whose  day  is  like 
that  of  the  butterfly  in  more  respects  than  one. 

"I  tease  Alice  about  Tim  Lamum  and  Mr. 
Neely  and  all  her  other  beaux,"  says  Mrs.  Budd, 
whom  Dr.  Warner's  visit  has  greatly  enlivened, 
"but  I  never  dare  mention  Mr.  Arthur  to  her." 

"Such  a  traitor,  you  know,"  adds  Dr.  War- 
ner.    "Pity,  pity!" 

"Exactly  so!"  says  Jem  Budd,  reflecting  the 
Doctor's  smile. 

"  Not  much  worse  than  Jem  here,  I'm  afraid," 
puts  in  Mrs.  Budd,  with  the  same  light  upon  her 
face.  "  He  never  says  a  word  to  me,  Jem  don't 
— not  to  a  soul  since  this  thing  began  ;  but  I'm 
afraid  Jem's  a  bad,  bad  man  !" 

"Exactly  as  I  say !"  adds  Jem,  following  the 
Doctor  to  the  door  with  a  candle  and  a  grin. 

And  there  is  many  another  among  the  men 
still  left  in  Somerville,  thougli  none  so  sedate 
and  non-committal  as  he.  Very  often  have  Dr. 
Warner,  old  Mr.  Adams,  and  the  like  been  fa- 
vored with  a  wink  and  an  aside  smile  which  said 
as  plain  as  words,  "A  good  joke,  ain't  it?"  by 
individuals  in  the  very  heat  of  jubilation  amidst 
a  crowd  over  foreign  intervention,  glorious  vic- 
tory, iron-plated  Confederate  fleet.  Northern 
sickness  of  the  war,  and  all  the  rest.    The  num- 


ber of  these  equivocal  individuals  in  Somerville 
is  great,  is  increasing,  their  facetiousness  becom- 
ing more  undisguised  every  day. 

And  so  the  times  roll  on.  We  are  not  with- 
out news  in  these  days  in  Somerville.  Sure 
enough,  the  Federals  nre  being  drawn  slowly 
but  steadily  away  from  Chattanooga.  With  un- 
precedented folly  they  persist  in  walking  blindly, 
madly  into  the  fatal  trap.  We  wlii])  them  at 
Dalton,  we  rout  them  with  terrible  slaughter^at 
Marietta,  yet  they  still  have  enough  left  to  fol- 
low our  army,  fallen  back  to  entice  them  still 
further  in.  Such  a  series  of  Confederate  vic- 
tories we  have  never  yet  enjoyed.  Full  details 
by  the  column ;  little  items,  like  grains  of  pep- 
per, in  all  the  corners  of  every  paper.  "The 
destruction  of  Sherman's  army  is  more  complete 
than  had  been  supjjosed."  "We  have  totally 
destroyed  Sherman's  line  of  communication  with 
Chattanooga."  "It  is  now  well  known  that  at 
Kenesaw  Mountain  Johnston  will  spring  his  trap, 
the  enemy  being  drawn  sufficiently  into  it." 

Then  follows  the  brilliant  victory  achieved  by 
Hood,  now  in  command,  over  Sherman  at  At- 
lanta ;  of  this  we  have  the  official  accounts  and 
the — bells. 

It  is  just  following  this  that  Mr.  Arthur,  rid- 
ing in  to  the  Post-oifice  very  early  one  morning, 
goes  direct  from  the  office  to  Mr.  Ferguson's 
room.  So  early,  in  fact,  that  he  finds  that  gen- 
tleman still  in  bed.  As  to  Mr.  Arthur,  he  is 
wide  awake,  very  ruddy  and  fresh. 

"If  you  please,  let  me  have  the  key  of  your 
safe,"  he  says,  in  high  spirits,  to  his  friend. 

"Key  of  my  safe?"  And  the  Scotchman, 
drawing  on  his  trowsers,  hands  that  imi>lement 
to  his  friend,  taking  it  from  under  his  pillow, 
watching  grimly  the  futile  efforts  of  Mr.  Arthur 
to  unlock  the  safe,  or  even  to  find  the  keyhole 
when  he  has  the  key. 

"I  wanted  to  make  an  entry  in  your  Scrap- 
book,"  he  explains  at  last,  with  boyish  eagerness. 

"An  entry?"  And  Mr.  Ferguson,  holding 
up  his  trowsers  with  his  left  hand,  has  opened 
the  safe  in  a  moment. 

"Atlanta  has  fallen!"  His  visitor  can  keep 
it  back  no  longer;  beginning  with  enthusiasm, 
his'A'oice  faltering  as  he  says  it,  though.  "Oh, 
Mr.  Ferguson,  Atlanta  has  fallen  at  last!" 

Not  a  syllable  from  Mr.  Ferguson,  not  a  smile. 
If  ])ossible,  more  grim  than  ever.  Yet,  by  a 
singular  coincidence,  he  remembers,  doubtless 
merely  from  the  safe  being  open  before  him,  that 
he  is  indebted,  which  he  is  not,  to  Mr.  Arthur, 
and  pays  him  two  double  eagles  on  account  upon 
the  sjiot.  And  Mr.  Ferguson  spends  the  whole 
of  that  day  upon  the  streets — no  particular  busi- 
ness at  all.  For  there  is  this  peculiarity  of  the 
Union  men — that  while  you  never  see  them 
abroad,  so  far  as  they  can  help  it,  when  the 
news  is  good,  as  it  generally  is  in  Somerville 
hitherto,  for  the  Confederacy,  so  sure  as  it  is 


188 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKOXICLE  OF  SECESSION, 


bad,  which  will  happen  in  spite  of  the  Star  oc- 
casionally, out  they  all  swarm  from  their  re- 
treats, meeting  with  each  other,  clasping  warm 
hands  and  shaking  doleful  heads,  with  smiling 
faces,  over  the  tidings  at  evei^  turn  and  corner. 
Secessionists  not  unaware  of  it  cither. 

The  very  next  time  Mr.  Arthur  rides  in  to  the 
Post-office  he  is  hailed  before  he  can  get  there 
from  the  yard  of  Dr.  Warner's  house.  When- 
ever he  conveniently  could  Mr.  Arthur  rather 
avoided  that  residence.  lie  imagined  black  eyes 
watching  him  through  the  windows,  and,  from 
mere  sight  of  him,  a  terrible  tongue  set  agoing. 
More  than  once  have  'Ria  and  Bub,  long  since 
withdrawn  from  the  Sunday-school,  hailed  him 
in  opprobrious  terms  in  passing,  saluting  him 
on  one  or  two  instances  with  theii-  political  sen- 
timents in  the  shape  of  pebbles.  Until  he  is  safe- 
ly past  the  house  he  is  not  sure  but  Mrs.  W.  may 
herself  rush  out  and  scourge  him  with  her  tongue. 
For  he  often  hears  of  the  frequent  and  various 
ways  in  which  she  has  expressed  her  ardent  de- 
sire that  he  should  be  disposed  of.  Truth  is,  he 
has  a  mortal  terror  of  the  lady  in  question. 


THK  DOOTOB  UAS   (iOOD  NEWS. 

So  that  when  he  is  hailed  this  morning,  as  he 
rides  by  on  his  way  to  the  Post-office,  he  nerv- 
ously starts  until  he  sees  it  is  Dr.  Warner.  The 
Doctor,  while  shaving  at  the  glass  in  his  room, 
has  spied  his  friend  passing,  and  now  comes  out 
in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  the  soap  upon  his  fresh, 
good-humored  face  to  say,  "  Don't  be  in  such  a 
hurry — hold  on."     And,  leaning  over  the  fence. 


Dr.  Warner  does  not  wait  for  an  answer  as  to 
the  health  of  Mi-s.  Sorel  before  he  says,  glancing 
behind  him  at  the  house  and  in  a  lowered  tone 
of  voice, 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?" 
"No.  Some  glorious  Confederate  victory? 
Where  was  it?"  deeming  it  best  to  show  the 
Doctor  and  himself  thereby  that  he  expects  and 
is  prepared  for  the  strongest  news  of  that  nature. 
"Mobile  has  fallen !"  pressing  still  closer  to 
the  fence,  and  speaking  in  a  still  lower  tone. 

"  Are  you  certain  ?"  Ah,  what  relief  and  sat- 
isfaction !  You  at  the  North  supposed  you  de- 
rived pleasure  from  news  of  Federal  success — 
you  knew  nothing  about  it ! 

"Oh  yes;  that  is,  Farragut  has  captured  the 
forts  which  defended  it.  Of  course  the  city  lies 
at  his  mercy.  We  will  hear  by  the  next  mail 
of  his  occupying  the  place."  Which  they  didn't, 
nor  for  long  days  after. 

"All  well  ?"  asks  his  friend,  for  they  both  feel 
that  they  are  standing  in  point-blank  range  of 
a  battery,  and  do  not  care  to  protract  the  con- 
versation. 

"Yes;  and,  by-the-by,  I  will  send  out  a  bar- 
rel of  sugar  to  Mrs.  Sorel's  this  morning.  I 
have  been  owing  you" — which  here,  too,  is  not  the 
case — "a  long  time.  Well,  good-by.  Haven't 
got  time  to  come  in,  I  sujiposc?  I'll  see  you  on 
the  streets  in  the  course  of  the  day."  And,  sure 
enough,  all  the  Union  people  are  abroad  to-day 
again,  swarming  forth  in  this  last  burst  of  sun- 
shine like  bees,  with  scarcely  subdued  buzz,  too, 
the  weather  is  getting  so  pleasant ! 

"Thought  I  didn't  see  you?"  is  Mrs.  War- 
ner's sarcastic  remark  as  the  Doctor  resumes  his 
shaving,  which  the  Doctor  did  not  think,  how- 
ever. "I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars,  when  I  come 
to  hear  it,  there's  bad  news  for  the  South.  Run- 
ning out  this  cold  morning  like  a  great  big  boy 
in  your  shirt-sleeves  and  half  shaved  to  talk  to 
a  man  that  never  enters  your  house.  There's 
some  bad  news — you  needn't  tell  me!  I  saw  you 
laughing  when  you  told  him ;  and  I  as  good  as 
heard  him  say,  'Thank  God,  I'm  glad  of  it!' 
Humph,  I  know  you  by  this  time!" 

Which  was  the  solemn  fact ;  but  the  Doctor, 
with  his  head  fallen  into  its  old  droop,  shaves  on, 
making  the  soap  upon  his  mouth  the  base  ex- 
cuse for  not  saying  any  thing  in  reply.  But,  at 
last,  Mrs.  W.  has  not  half  so  much  to  say  as  of 
old,  nor  half  the  bitterness  in  saying  that  which 
she  used  to  exhibit. 

There  is,  in  fact,  this  peculiarity  about  all  Se- 
cessionists in  Somerville — it  is  only  as  they  arc 
excited  that  they  are  confident;  the  instant  they 
cool  they  become  doubtful.  As  a  large  audience 
gathered  to  hear  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  or  Captain 
Simmons,  for  the  Captain,  with  a  firm  hold  upon 
the  desk  in  Brother  Barker's  church — "Admit- 
tance, one  silver  dollar  for  the  benefit  of  the  sol- 
diers"— makes  orations,  Brother  Barker  opening 


INSIDE.— A  CllKUNICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


189 


with  prayer,  thcsO  days,  we  are  cntliiisiastic, 
and  j)0!iitivcly  ccrtaiu  uf  t lie  success  of  the  Con- 
federacy. It  is  when  we  break  up,  go  home, 
and  are  oft' to  oui'sclvcs  individually,  that  we,  in 
the  ideas  if  not  dialect  of  I5ol)  Withers,  "Are 
not  so  certain  of  it  at  last.  At  least,  for  one, 
by  George !  /  ain't !" 

Of  one  thing  we  are,  thank  Heaven  !  perfectly 
certain  as  the  days  glide  by.  We  do  not  pre- 
tend to  understand  what  Sherman  and  Ilood  are 
about  marching  hither  and  thither.  Davis  has 
told  us  at  Macon  that  Sherman's  capture  of  At- 
lanta is  to  be  to  him  a  IMoscow  defeat  at  last. 
Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  conHagration 
of  Moscow  and  the  liussian  winter,  trifling  dis- 
crepancies in  the  historic  parallel,  we  only  wait 
to  hear  of  the  total  destruction  of  Sherman  in 
fulfillment  of  this  official  projihecy.  After  the 
first^sickening  sensation  upon  hearing  of  the  fall 
of  Atlanta  we  recuperate,  confidently  counting 
upon  Sherman's  great  disaster  as  only  a  question 
of  time,  for  Davis  has  said  it. 

Of  another  thing  we  are  even  more  certain — 
the  defeat  of  Lincoln  at  the  approaching  elec- 
tion. For  months  the  Somerville  Star  has  been 
filled  with  articles  from  Northern  pa])ers,  them- 
selves so  replete  with  denunciation  of  Lincoln, 
so  confident  of  his  speedy  fall,  Uiat  we  only  won- 
der the  North,  in  its  intense  and  evidently  unan- 
imous hatred  of  Lincoln,  is  willing  to  wait  until 
election  day  to  liurl  him  headlong  from  his  place. 
We  know  the  despot  will  endeavor  to  bring  the 
i)ayonet  to  bear  upon  the  polls ;  there  may  be  a 
few  votes  cast  for  liim  by  oflice-holdcrs ;  but 
there  will  be  one  universal  figlit  at  every  elec- 
tion precinct  in  the  North.  We  would  prefer 
M'Clellan  should  be  elected  on  some  accounts, 
yet  count  a  good  deal  upon  neither  candidate 
being  elected,  but  the  whole  mockery  of  a  gov- 
ernment there  being  utterly  broken  up,  exploded, 
totally  wrecked  by  the  convulsions  sure  to  sliake 
the  land  upon  election  day. 

Lamum  has  articles,  a  series  of  them,  to  prove 
it.  Captain  Simmons  made  a  descrijition  of 
these  approaching  convulsions  a  thrilling  point 
in  bis  orations,  the  earthquake  in  Lisbon  being 
the  tremendous  illustration  thereof,  himself  tot- 
tering in  the  stand  as  he  spake,  in  a  manner 
exceedingly  emblematic.  Yet  as  the  day  ap- 
proaches there  is  a  slackening  of  public  certain- 
ty somehow. 

"I  have  hoped  IM'Clcllan  mitjht  be  elected," 
Dr.  Warner  has  said  to  Mr.  Arthur  in  the  se- 
curity of  Mr.  Ferguson's  room. 

"You  have!"  exclaims  that  gentleman, with 
as  much  surprise  as  pain. 

"Why,  yes,"  says  Dr.  Warner,  rubbing  the 
phrenological  organ,  whatever  it  is,  immediately 
behind  the  ear  with  his  forefinger.  "I  sec  no 
end  to  the  war  othenvise.  The  Democratic  party 
might  conciliate  in  some  way,  com))romise,  ar- 
range the  thing,"  continues  the  fat,  slovenly,  , 


thoroughly  excellent  physician,  in  a  vague,  gen- 
eral, umlccided  manner.  "Don't  you?"  he 
asks,  doubtfully. 

"I?"  asks  Mr.  Arthin-,  with  indignation. 
"No,  Sir!  May  Heaven  forbid !  There  is  only 
one  plain  road :  to  carry  the  war  steadily,  un- 
flinchingly on  fill  the  purpose  for  which  it  began 
is  accomiilislicd.  The  election  of  M'Ciellan  I 
would  look  upon  as  the  election  of  vacillation, 
weakness,  the  success  of  the  Confederacy,  anar- 
chy, ruin !  I  am  really  ama/.ed  that  you.  Doc- 
tor, could  look  at  it  any  other  way.  Don't  you 
regard  it  in  that  light,  Mr.  Ferguson?" 

"Of  course!"  growls  the  Scotchman,  in  ac- 
cents scarcely  polite  to  Dr.  Warner,  considered 
as  being  at  the  moment  his  guest.  "  Not  a  sens- 
ible Union  man  North  or  South  thinks  otherwise." 
And  yet  when  we  hear  in  Somerville  that  Lin- 
coln is  actually  elected,  no  man  sees  more  clear- 
ly by  that  time  than  Dr.  Warner  that  the  Union 
men  have  greater  cause  to  rejoice  in  this  than  in 
any  other  victory  achieved  by  the  nation.  Yes, 
that  victory  was  the  Waterloo  of  the  whole  war. 
"  If  you  can  use  it,  or  if  you  know  any  person 
— arfy  person  not  a  Secessionist,  you  know — who 
can  use  it,  send  out  a  wagon,  send  half  a  dozen 
wagons,"  old  Mr.  Adams  says  the  very  day  wc 
hear  in  town  of  the  re-election  of  Lincoln,  to 
Mr.  Arthur,  whom  he  meets,  as  he  might  and 
did  meet  every  other  Union  man  of  Somerville, 
upon  the  streets.  "I've  plenty  of  rye  and  oats 
left ;  you  or  any  body,  any  body  you  can  recom- 
mend, is  more  than  welcome!" 

Very  remarkable.  Thin,  and  sharp,  and  cold 
as  a  razor  is  old  Mr.  Adams.  A  tough  time  of 
it  Sam  Peter.s,  even  Brother  Barker  himself  had 
of  it  before  the  war  in  getting  a  cent  for  any  ob- 
ject out  of  old  IMr.  Adams,  strenuous  commu- 
nicant of  that  church  as  he  was.  All  Brother 
Barker's  communion  well  knew  and  bewailed 
Brother  Adams's  stinginess.  It  was  as  well,  as 
proverbially,  known  to  be  Brother  Adams's  sin 
which  did  most  easily  beset  him,  as  was  lying 
known  to  be  Brother  Peters'«  weakness.  Only 
the  latter,  in  times  of  religious  revival,  openly 
confessed,  and,  in  terms  so  highly  colored  as  to 
show  the  old  vice  ran  in  the  very  blood,  bewailed 
his  sin,  whereas  Brother  Adams  did  nothing  of 
the  kind.  We  all  knew  Brother  Barker  meant 
him  in  all  his  many  hits  at  the  penurious  and 
close-fisted  in  and  out  of  pulpit — all  of  us  ex- 
cept the  individual  aimed  at  himself.  Or  if 
he  knew  it  he  only  gripped  his  bivalves  more 
closely  together,  and  took  it  upon  his  crustaceous 
sides,  like  so  much  mere  water. 

But  all  that  was  before  Secession.  If  any  Se- 
cessionist obtained,  otherwise  than  by  physical 
force,  a  horse,  or  a  bundle  of  fodder,  or  a  stem 
of  oats,  or  a  grain  of  corn,  or  an  ounce  of  pork 
from  old  Brother  Adams,  that  fact  is  not  upon 
record.  To  Union  people,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  no  more  thought  of  withholding  any  thing 


190 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


he  possessed  than  he  thought  of  going  to  hear 
Brother  Barker  or  any  other  Secessionist  preach. 
Long  and  thin,  sharp,  cold,  and  hard  as  he  was, 
sour  and  close,  old  Mr.  Adams  had  hidden 
among  his  bones,  like  gold  among  the  strata,  a 
pure,  strong  love  of  country :  the  vein  once 
struck  was  inexhaustible.  How  can  we  tell  how 
much  it  cost  his  friends  to  elect  Mr.  Lincoln 
there  at  the  North  ?  Millions  in  the  way  of 
bribes,  the  Star  said.  It  certainly  cost  old  Mr. 
Adams,  when  over,  in  pork  and  corn  and  pota- 
toes, hundreds,  to  say  the  least. 

But  we  have  no  time  in  Somerville  to  reason 
about  the  results  of  Lincoln's  re-election,  the 
Star  exulting  in  it  as  the  certain  means — as  hun- 
dreds of  events  have  been  before — of  at  last  mak- 
ing the  South  a  unit,  and  thoroughly  arousing 
the  people.  Ah,  how  many,  many  theories  were 
manufactured  at  the  South  during  the  war,  each 
perfectly  symmetrical  and  beautiful!  Bubbles? 
Yes,  but  then  we  could  blow  them  as  fast  as  they 
burst,  you  know.  Yet  we  have  no  time  to  dis- 
cuss that  question  in  our  intense  curiosity  in  ref- 
erence to  Sherman  just  now. 

"Yes,  he  has  cut  loose  from  Atlanta,"  Cap- 
tain Simmons  demonstrates  the  matter,  news- 
paper in  hand,  to  Dr.  Ginnis  and  Mr.  Ellis  col- 
lected in  Jem  Budd's  shop  out  of  the  rain — "cut 
loose  from  Atlanta  in  sheer  despair  of  getting 
out  of  Georgia  by  the  way  he  came ;  Hood,  you 
see,  having  got  behind  him.  He  is  making — 
you  see  what  the  paper  says — frantic  efforts  to 
escape  by  way  of  the  Atlantic  coast,  his  only 
hope  leff,  sheer  desperation." 

"Oh,  Lee  from  Richmond!"  begins  Dr.  Gin- 
nis, eagerly. 

"And  the  militia  of  South  Carolina!"  adds 
Mr.  Ellis,  still  more  eagerly. 

"  Of  course  will  close  in  upon  him.  I  have 
no  more  doubt  of  the  capture  of  his  entire  com- 
mand than  I  have  of  my  existence.  Davis's 
idea  of  his  retreat  to  Tennessee  being  cut  off 
was  good,  as  every  thing  from  his  consummate 
statesmanship  is;  but,"  continues  Captain  Sim- 
mons, "Sherman's  case  was  worse  than  Davis 
supposed.  Why,  gentlemen,  look  at  it,  not  one 
man,  not  a  single  gun  he  has  but  we  are  bound 
to  get.     It  is  a  certainty.''  ^ 

"A  special  Providence,''  says  good  Mr.  Ellis. 
"  I  love  to  trace  the  hand  of  Heaven  in  our 
cause." 

"That's  just  what  I  say,"  puts  in  Jem  Budd, 
as  he  hammers  away  at  a  gun-barrel  clenched 
in  its  vice  upon  his  work-table.  "Exactly 
what  /say."  Consequently  while  we  are  rejoiced 
thereby  still  it  is  only  what  we  expected  when  we 
soon  read  in  all  the  papers  of  the  capture  of 
Sherman.  And,  to  make  this  good  news  com- 
plete, the  same  dates  give  tidings  of  Hood's  cap- 
ture of  Nashville. 

"What  I  always  said,"  Jem  Budd  remarks  to 
Tim  Lamum,  dropped  into  the  shop  to  see,  in  a 


languid  way,  if  his  revolver  has  all  the  silver 
mountings  he  has  ordered  for  it ;  and  who,  cigar 
in  mouth,  legs  hanging  listlessly  down  as  he  sits 
on  Jems  work-bench,  gives  him  all  the  details 
of  these  two  glorious  events  as  they  have  been 
coming  in  for  two  weeks  now. 

"Seems  to  me,"  Jem  Budd  ventures  at  last, 
punching  and  hammering  away,  none  the  less, 
at  his  work,  ' '  that  Brother  Barker  isn't  as  chirky 
as  he  used  to  be."  He  only  says  this  to  say  somc- 
tliing. 

" old  woman!"  vituperates  Tim,  with 

prompt  jjrofanity.  For  Brother  Barker  does 
not  occupy  the  position  in  Somerville  he  used 
to;  he  has  in  some  imi)crceptible,  incompre- 
hensible manner  dwindled  and  shriveled.  Very 
few,  indeed,  at  church  these  Sabbaths.  Sabbath- 
school  long  since  suspended. 

Even  grim  Mr.  Ferguson  almost  pities  them, 
his  respected  fellow-citizens  of  the  Secession 
persuasion,  when  the  truth  comes  upon  them  at 
last !  Comes  upon  them  so  suddenly,  and  with 
double  blow !  And  herewith  a  fact,  not  alto- 
gether new  but  interesting  in  human  nature,  is 
evolved.     As  thus : 

"Any  thing  new  in  the  paper  this  morning?" 
Dr.  Warner  asks,  the  very  day  after  Tim  Lam- 
um's  conversation  with  Mr.  Budd,  of  Dr.  Ginnis, 
with  whom  he  has  professional  relations. 

"Why,  n-n-no.  Some  rumors,  I  believe;  I 
have  not  had  time  to  look  carefully  over  the  pa- 
per yet.  By-the-by,  Doctor,  what  do  you  think 
now  of  that  negro's  wound  ?  Not  lockjaw  super- 
vening, do  you  think?" 

"Have  you  the  paper  there.  Captain  Sim- 
mons? Any  thing  in  it?"  Dr.  Warner — easy, 
good-natured  Dr.  Warner — frayed  as  to  the 
edges  of  shirt  bosom  and  collar,  gone  as  to  half- 
a-dozen  buttons  or  so  on  vest,  neckerchief  and 
hair  disheveled  and  scattered  abroad  as  by  gusty 
winds ;  yet  we  all  like  him  in  Somerville,  as 
unanimous  in  opinion  about  him  as  we  are  in 
sentiment  in  reference  to  his  wife ;  being  on  good 
terms  with — except  his  wife — every  person  in 
town,  the  Doctor  asks  the  question  in  an  indif- 
ferent way  of  the  Captain. 

"Nothing  of  special  interest.  Doctor;  nothing 
at  all,"  replies  the  Captain,  folding  up  the  paper 
as  he  speaks  and  putting  it  in  his  pocket,  oblivi- 
ous, in  a  dignified  manner,  of  the  Doctor's  hand 
extended  for  it.  "The  solemn  truth  is,"  con- 
tinues the  Captain,  seriously,  steadying  himself, 
so  to  speak,  by  fastening  his  oracular  and  ad- 
monitory eyes  upon  those  of  his  questioner, 
"  there  is  no  truth  in  the  world  just  now.  False- 
hood? From  my  infancy  have  I  loathed  it. 
Lying  ?  Next  to  a  Yankee,  my  soul  abhors  it. 
Sainted  parents  instilled  the  story  of  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  into  my  earliest  being.  Sir,"  con- 
tinues the  Captain,  "it  is  painful  to  say  it,  but 
men  of  my  standing,"  holding  on  to  the  Doctor 
under  pretense  of  laying  a  Mentor's  hand  npon 


INSIDE.— A  CHUUNICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


191 


his  shouldei',  "should  not  hesitate  to  utter  at 
this  awful  crisis  their  religious  convictions.  You 
may  repeat  it,  Sir,  as  from  Captain  Simmons, 
Lanuim  is  a  Yankee,  and  Lamum  is  a  liar. 
Never  had  I  the  least  faith  in  him  or  his  paper. 
No,  Sir,  I  was  not  faliinp.  When  I  require 
your  assistance  to  enable  me  to  maintain  an  up- 
right position  I  will  say  so.  Nothing  new.  Sir, 
in  the  paper,  save  foolish  rumors— nothing  at  all." 

"Nothing  new,   I'm  told,"  Dr.  Warner  re- 
marks to  Mr.  Ferguson,  into  whose  room  he  ' 
next  enters.      "  I  was  up  all  night  with  one  of 
Colonel  Wright's  hands  who  has  given  himself 
an  ugly  cut,  or  got  one  some  way." 

""Nothing  at  all, "  replies,  concisely,  the  Scotch- 
man, who  is  busy  with  scissors  and  paste  at  his 
collection,  "except  that  Sherman  is  in  posses- 
sion of  Savannah  with  trifling  loss,  and  Hood's 
army  has  been  utterly  routed  below  Nashville  !" 

"Bless  my  soul!  and  it  must  be  true!"  ex- 
claims the  electrified  Doctor,  his  face  ablaze 
with  satisfaction. 

"  I  beg  you  will  let  me  pay  you  that  little 
amount,  Doctor,"  Sir.  Ferguson  says  in  conclu- 
sion of  their  conversation,  a  very  animated  con- 
versation. 

"  Not  one  cent.  Sir;  not  one  cent.  I  will  be 
positively  offended  if  you  ever  mention  it  again," 
and  both  offer  and  refusal  are  in  strict  coherence 
with  the  news  ;  and  the  Doctor  leaves  him  a  hap- 
pier and  a  wiser  man. 

"  I  t<^  you  just  what  it  is,  gentlemen  !  Why 
not  say  it  if  a  fellow  thinks  it,  by  George !  You 
all  know  I'm  not  a  bad  Southern  man,  but  we 
are  whipped,  gentlemen,  whipped,  by  George! 
and  well  whipped."  It  is  Bob  Withers  makes 
the  remark  that  same  day  in  the  presence  of 
Captain  Simmons  and  Mr.  Ellis,  in  the  store  of 
the  latter. 

"Only  a  few  days  ago,  in  Jem  Budd's  shop,  I 
think  it  was,  I  said  I  was  afraid  about  Sherman. 
You  see  I  didn't  see  where  the  troops  were  to 
come  from  to  stop  him.  Besides,"  adds  Captain 
Simmons,  "  Gcoi'gia  is  rotten — you  mark  my 
words,  rotten,  gentlemen.  That  about  Hood  I 
don't  see  into.  I  can't  believe  it,  and  I  won't. 
Sometimes  we  say  of  news  '  It's  too  good  to  be 
true,'  and  this" — withi  heavy  swearing — "is  too 
bad  to  be  true  !" 

"For  me,"  says  Mr.  Ellis,  too  nervous  about 
the  news  to  notice  with  reprobation,  as  he  ordi- 
narily would,  the  profanity,  "  I  endeavor  to  trace 
the  hand  of  a  just  God  in  all  events.  It  can't  be 
we  are  to  be  subjugated,  can  not  be ;  it  would  be 
unjust,  unjust,  grossest  injustice  in — I  mean  the 
Almighty  will  not  permit  it,  should  not,  will 
not !"  very  much  excited  indeed. 

"But  look  at  it,  gentlemen,"  reasons  Bob 
Withers;  "we've  got  our  last  men  in  the  field, 
ain't  we  ?  You  both  know  as  well  as  I,  not  a 
soul  goes  to  the  front  if  he  can  help  it ;  neither 
of  you  gentlemen  has  the  least  idea  of  going,  and 


you  don't  catch  nie  going,  by  George !  Details 
for  this,  details  for  that,  nothing  but  details. 
Then,  it  wouldn't  do  to  talk  this  way  about  tilings 
before  Union  people,  but  «'e  know  how  tiie  sol- 
diers arc  deserting,  shoot  them  as  fast  as  you 
please ;  but  they  will  desert,  sick  of  the  war,  want 
to  get  back  to  their  sweet-hearts  and  wives.  Lin- 
coln elected  for  another  four  years,  being  whipped 
in  all  the  fights,  what's  the  use  ?  they  say.  And 
it's  more  than  enrolling  officers  dare  to  do,  ar- 
resting them  around  here.  Six  enrolling  officers 
shot  down  lately  in  my  own  knowledge  by  re- 
turned soldiers." 

"Mr.  Withers,"  begins  Mr.  Ellis,  excitedly. 

"People  won't  touch  the  paj)er-money  except 
enough  to  pay  taxes.  Impressment  is  souring 
people,  by  George  !  a  little  too  fast ;  they  shoot 
them  down,  by  George !  I  know  one  man  won't 
take  office  as  impressing  officer!''  Bob  Withers 
continues. 

"Mr.  Withers,  you  really  ought  not,"  good 
little  Mr.  Ellis  begins  again,  emphatically.  Only 
more  emphatically  than  he  Mr.  Withers  pro- 
ceeds : 

"  You  hear  it  on  every  side,  openly,  '  I  do  this 
to  keep  out  of  the  army,'  '  do  that  to  keep  out  of 
tlie  army.'  You  may  mow  them  down  by  whole 
ranks  at  a  time  for  desertion,  it  does  no  good, 
not  a  bit.  Then,  look  at  the  country  people — 
returned  soldiers,  I  suppose — breaking  open  peo- 
ple's houses  by  night,  demanding  of  old  men, 
even  of  women  and  children,  their  money,  or 
blow  their  brains  out,  let  alone  taking  every 
thing  they  can  lay  their  hands  on  in  open  day. 
Then—" 

"But  what  is  the  alternative,  man?"  Captain 
Simmons  breaks  in  upon  Mr.  Withers,  with  en- 
ergy enough  to  drown  and  overwhelm  him. 
"Submission.  Submission  to  wretched  Abo- 
litionists. Ab-o-lition-ists !  gentlemen,  people 
who  make  the  negro  our  equal,  actually  asso- 
ciate with  them.  There  is,  gentlemen,"  adds 
Captain  Simmons,  with  an  air,  "a  new  ism  at 
the  North,  miscegenation,"  tucking  a  thumb  in 
the  arm-hole  of  his  vest  on  each  side  as  he 
speaks,  "they  call  it,  the  abominable  intermar- 
riage— " 

"How  any  man  can  suppose  a  holy  God  will — " 
vainly  attempts  Mr.  Ellis  to  put  in. 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Simmons!"  intenaipts  Bob 
Withers,  with  violence  in  honest  face  and  voice, 
triumphant  over  both.  "Who  do  I  see  riding 
to  water  late  of  an  evening,  with  a  little  milk- 
and-molasses  chap  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle 
before  him  ?  Oh,  by  George !  Simmons,  be  con- 
sistent, man.  Tuesday?  No,  it  was  Wednes- 
day last — never  mind  what  day  it  was.  Sim- 
mons here  will  tell  you  who  it  was  I  saw  driv- 
ing out  a-fishing  in  his  buggy  with  a  yellow 
woman — and  she  ain't  even  pretty,  Simmons — 
dressed  u])  as  nice  as  you  ])lease,  and  that  same 
little  half-white  chap— fine  child,  Simmons,  as 


192 


INSIDE.— A  CIIliONlCLE  OF  SECESSION. 


E- 

a 

< 
o 

09 


I  ever  saw — in  her  lap.  And  it's  been  so  for 
years — we  all  know  that  here  in  Sonierville — 
does  you  actual  credit  in  some  respects,  man. 
And  you  know  whether  or  no  you  did  s§nd  that 
oldest  yellow  hoy  of  youi-s  to  Obevlin  before  the 
war  began.     But  you  ain't  the  only  man  South, 


only  you  .  are  more  steady  to  one,  Simmons — 
steady,  by  George!  to  one." 

"  I  consider  your  licentious  remarks,  Sir,  as 
personal,"  says  Captain  Simmons,  reddening  and 
swelling  like  a  turkey-cock. 

"Don't  intend  any  offense,"  Bob  Withers  rat- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


193 


ties  on ;  "but  I  appeal  to  Dr.  Peel,  dropped  in 
just  in  time.  No,  I  won't ;  Dr.  Peel  is  one  of 
the  sinners,  like  Sinunons  and  myself.  But 
here's  Mr.  Ellis — repular  clnirch-incmber  and 
all  that,  now,  Mr.  Ellis.  Look  here  !  if  a  man 
will  live,  it's  all  a  matter  of  taste  ;  my  taste  ain't 
that  way  myself;  hut  if  a  man  will  live  for  years 
— you  ain't  the  only  one,  Sinmions — with  a  ne- 
gro woman,  raise  up  a  family — no  ladies  pres- 
ent, I  believe — this  is  the  point,  Mr.  Ellis — is  it 
worse  to  do  that  illicitly,  illegally,  or  legally — 
hell?  As  to  this  whole  Secession,  I  always  said 
it  was  only  the  grandest  sort  of  a  spree — a  tirree- 
mendons  spree,  by  George !  Smash  uj)  in  the 
end,  see  if  there  ain't." 

"I  consider,  Sir,  your  whole  strain  of  con- 
versation as  unworthy  a  Southern  man,"  ex- 
cited Mr.  Ellis  gets  room  to  say  at  last.  "Your 
sentiments  are  dangerous,  Sir,  dangerous  for  you 
to  utter  in  this  community,  Sir.  They  will  not 
be  tolerated.  Sir,  not  for  an  instant,  Sir — " 

There  is  a  nervousness,  an  excitability  of  man- 
ner, a  feverish  motion  of  hands  and  feet  and  eye- 
lids with  Mr.  Ellis  which  attracts  more  attention 
than  what  he  says.  But  Bob  Withers,  in  the 
very  midst  of  Mr.  Ellis's  excited  speech,  after 
contemplating  him  curiously  for  a  while,  utters 
a  loud  and  long-continued  Whew !  turned  vio- 
lently up  in  its  ending,  and  with  an  "Oh,  by 
George  I"  walks  coolly  out  of  the  store. 

"Pshaw  !  Withers  must  be  drunk  this  morn- 
ing," Cajitain  Simmons  explains  in  a  dignified 
manner  to  Dr.  I'cel,  after  Mr.  Ellis's  excitement 
can  be  got  a  little  under  control.  "Not  a  bad 
fellow  poor  Withers,  only  he  will  find  when  too 
late  that" — and  the  Captain  says  it  with  tearful 
pathos — "  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  it  stingeth  like 
an  a<lder." 

"The  association  of  the  whites  and  the  blacks 
it  was  he  was  talking  about?"  asks  Dr.  Peel, 
magnificent  as  usual  in  broadcloth,  hair-oil,  and 
jewelry.  "  Sherman  and  Thomas  have  whi]>ped 
Bob  into  that,  have  they  ?  By  George  !  gentle- 
men, we  are  getting  along,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  in 
condescending  imitation  of  the  person  just  de- 
parted. "How  any  man,"  Dr.  Peel  adds  at 
last,  adjusting  the  gold  studs  upon  his  snowy 
shirt-cutfs,  "can  look  upon  an  intermingling  of 
the  races  without  loathing  unutterable,  horror 
beyond  words,  I  can  not  imagine.  It  is  done 
every  where  else  in  the  world,  which  is  one  of 
the  many  reasons  I  have  for  looking  upon  our 
country  as  the  purest  and  noblest  on  earth  in 
that  it  so  regards — what  is  it?  —  miscegena- 
tion." And  there  is  moral  force  in  the  solemni- 
ty of  Dr.  Peel's  oaths  in  continuance  of  the  con- 
versation. 

"Speaking  of  marriage,"  says  Captain  Sim- 
mons, exceedingly  malapro])os,  "come,  Dr.  Peel, 
tell  us  when  it  is  to  be?'  he  asks;  for,  on  the 
strength  of  his  recent  public  speeches,  with  very 
complimentary  notices  of  the  same  in  the  Star, 
N 


Captain  Simmons  is  on  more  familiar  terms 
with  Dr.  Peel,  sjilondid  Dr.  Peel,  than  of  old. 

"When  what  is  to  be?"  Dr.  Peel  brings  his 
I  full  front  to  bear  on  his  questioner.  Yes,  splen- 
did is  the  word,  in  his  fine  and  perfectly-fitting 
broadcloth,  sumptuous  satin  vest  crossed  with 
massive  links  of  gold,  diamond  pin,  finest  and 
whitest  linen,  superb  teeth,  large,  authoritative 
eyes. 

"Oh,  come,  come,  Doctor,"  says  Captain 
Simmons,  not  drunk  enough  to  be  sufficiently 
a  match  in  dignity  with  Dr.  Peel,  "every  body 
in  Somcrville  knows  it.  We  all  hope  General 
Wright  won't  let  the  war  j)revent  his  having  a 
real,  old-fashioned,  grand  time  of  it.  You  and 
he  have  so  many  personal  friends,  too,  in  all  this 
region.  A  regular  handsome  thing  of  it,  Doc- 
tor. I  haven't  sat  down  to  a  good  table  for  four 
years,"  adds  Captain  Simmons — who  loves  eat- 
ing only  less  than  he  does  drinking — mournfully 
and  with  watering  lips. 

It  was  because  of  the  delicacy  of  the  matter. 
Of  course  it  was  that.  It  could  be  nothing  else, 
you  know.  All  men  about  to  be  married  are 
nervous  and  diffident.  On  this  occasion  Dr. 
Peel,  for  a  man  of  his  mould  and  metal,  seemed 
for  a  time  rcnuukably  teased  and  taken  aback. 
But  he  extricates  himself. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  gentlemen,'"  waving  the  mat- 
ter oflT  with  a  regal  hand.  "But  I  can  tell  you 
a  little  news  worth  your  hearing." 

Captain  Simmons  is  wide  awake  in  an  in- 
stant. Mr.  Ellis  gets  over  his  counter  to  be 
nearer  the  Doctor,  listens  to  him  with  eager 
eyes.  Yes,  there  is  a  pleasure.  Bill  Perkins 
finds  more  remuneration  in  that  than  in  his 
five  hundred  Confederate  dollars  a  month,  in  be- 
ing the  bearer  of  news,  especially  good  news. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  with  tan- 
talizing dignity,  "a  friend  has  sent  me  a  letter 
in  advance  of  the  mail.  No  mistake  this  time — 
Bragg's  official  dis})atch.  The  Federals  have 
made  an  attack  upon  Fort  Fisher  by  land  and  by 
sea.  Fort  Fisher  is  the  outwork,  you  kn6w,  of 
Wilmington.  I  am  happy  to  say  they  have  been 
repulsed.  The  attack  was  under  command  of 
Beast  Butler — rejiulsed  with  terrible  slaughter. 
They  won't  try  that  game  again  in  a  hurry." 

"I  knew  it!"  exclaims  Mr.  Ellis,  with  in- 
tense delight,  rubbing  together  his  almost  trem- 
bling hands.  "Our  reverses  were  only  for  our 
trial,  you  know.  The  turning-point  is  reached 
at  last.  You  will  see  that  we  will,  from  this  out, 
have  an  uninterrupted  career  of  victory.  Th;^ 
loss  of  Wilmington,  our  last  important  port  I 
Why,  gentlemen,  it  would  have  ruined  us!  Had 
it  been  closed  I  would  have  given  up  our  glo- 
rious cause  as  gone.  But  no ;  if  Heaven  be  at 
times  against  us  it  is  not  unjust.  The  God 
who  rules  us  could  not,  would  not  permit  so  ter- 
rible a  wrong."  And  Mr.  Ellis's  eyes  glitter  and 
roll  with  an  excitement  almost  painful  to  behold. 


194 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


*'No,  as  yoa  say,  Sir,  they  will  not  attempt  that 
again." 

"What  will  you  bet  of  it?"  replies  Dr.  Peel, 
suddenly,  and  with  singular  inconsistency.  "  Oh, 
pshaw !  I  am  only  joking,  you  know.  Come, 
Captain  Simmons,  I  know  of  course  that  you 
are  not  dry — you  never  arc — but  I  am.  Let  us 
see  if  Staples  has  any  of  that  wliisky  left.  Won't 
you  join  us,  Mr.  Ellis?  No?  Ah,  you  don't 
know  what  is  good  for  you!  Good-morning! 
You  will  see  Bragg's  congratulatory  address  to 
his  troops  in  the  morning's  paper.  It's  well  that 
little  sanctified  chap  don't  touch  liquor,  Sim- 
mons," Dr.  Peel  remarks,  with  oaths,  before 
they  have  well  got  out  of  the  store.  "  If  he  did, 
he  would  be  in  the  Lunatic  Asylum  in  two 
months.  lie's  the  sort — he  and  Barker — they 
make  raving  Spiritualists,  Abolitionists,  Free 
Lovers,  and  the  like,  out  of  up  North.  Hurrah 
for  old  Bragg !  he's  up  once  more ;  wonder  how 
long  he'll  stay  so !" 

But  Mrs.  Warner.  The  whirlwinds  of  the 
last  few  months  have  seized  ujion  her,  lifted  her 
oft'  her  feet,  given  her  the  most  wonderful  twist 
that  can  be  imagined.  Even  before  the  repulse 
of  Banks  on  lied  Paver  she  began  to  insist — in- 
flicting that  opinion  upon  the  Doctor  like  a 
scourge — that  we  are  whijiped. 

"We  are  whipped.  Doctor  Warner,  whipped! 
and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I,  only  you  are  too 
great  a  coward  to  say  so.  Sitting  among  people 
who  are  bragging  about  our  success  and  all  that 
stuff";  going  about  with  those  old  saddle-bags 
over  your  arm,  never  daring  to  contradict  even 
that  old  fool  of  a  Doctor  Ginnis  !" 

The  repulse  of  Banks  quieted  but  did  not 
wholly  silence  Mrs.  Warner.  If  it  did,  the  fall 
of  Atlanta,  of  the  Mobile  forts,  the  re-election 
of  Lincoln,  and  the  capture  of  Savannah  seized 
this  Cassandra  up  again  as  in  a  Delphic  blast. 
Poor  Doctor  Warner ! 

"We  are  whipped,  Doctor  Warner,  whipped, 
whipped !"  She  insists  upon  it,  as  if  perpetually 
contradicted  by  her  husband  therein — breakfast, 
dinner,  supper,  and  upon  their  nuptial  couch  the 
Doctor  goes  to  sleep  almost  every  night  to  the 
same  reiterated  assertion. 

So  that  when  he  ventures,  the  morning  after 
Dr.  Peel  has  electrified  good  Air.  Ellis  with  the 
Fort  Fisher  news,  to  read  to  his  wife  at  break- 
fast the  official  tidings  of  the  repulse  of  Butler 
from  that  outwork,  Mrs.  Warner  justly  regards 
it  as  a  personal  insult. 

"It's  all  a  lie,  Doctor  Warner,  and  you  know 
it.  You  only  read  it  to  me  to  contradict  me. 
Repulsed !  and  a  man  of  your  sense  !  I  tell  you 
we  are  whipped,  -whipped  !  and  if  you  had  half 
an  idea  of  your  own,  or  half  a  tongue  to  speak 
out  like  any  other  man  what  you  really  think, 
you  would  know  it  and  say  it.  I've  no  patience 
with  you !  Even  that  meek,  poor-spirited  Mrs. 
Ret  Roberts  had  energy  enough  to  tell  me  so, 


almost  in  so  many  words,  when  I  was  there  last. 
They  do  say  that  brute  of  a  Roljcrts  treats  her 
with  crudest  unkindness.  I'd  like  to  see  any  man 
try  that  with  me.  Dare  not  go  to  hear  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, her  own  minister,  preach  these  ever  so  many 
years  ;  afraid  of  iicr  husband,  poor  thing  !  Her 
very  boy,  with  his  bold  eyes,  growing  up  just 
like  his  father.  Yes,  whipped — if  you  only  had 
sense  to  know  it !" 

So  that  when,  not  three  weeks  aftei"ward.  Dr. 
Warner  reads  to  her,  over  his  forgotten  coffee 
and  cold  steak,  the  news,  which  has  burst  upon 
Somervillc,  almost  deranging  Mr.  Ellis  and  ex- 
torting terrific  blasphemy  from  Dr.  Peel,  that 
Fort  Fisher  has  been  captured,  suddenly,  unex- 
pectedly captured,  when  we  in  Somerville  did  not 
even  know  that  another  attack  upon  it  was  in  con- 
templation— when  the  Doctor  reads  the  news  in 
a  cheerful  tone  to  his  wife  what  is  his  reward  ? 

"And  now.  Dr.  Warner,  from  this  time  out,  I 
do  hope  you  will  hold  your  tongue.  There  you 
sat  not  one  week  ago,  arguing,  disputing  that 
we  were  not  whipped,  reading  all  sorts  of  ridic- 
ulous stories  about  the  Federals  being  repulsed ! 
Can  you  look  me  straight  in  the  eyes  and  tell 
me  I  didn't  tell  you  it  was  a  lie  ?  You  know 
you  can't.  You  tire  ray  very  life  out  with  your 
eternal  contradiction.  It's  enough  I  take  one 
view  of  a  thing,  it's  the  signal  for  you  to  take  the 
other.  I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  we  are  whipped  ; 
if  you  persist  in  saying  we  are  not,  I  solemnly 
declare,  if  'Ria  and  Bub  were  not  here  at  table — 
be-/iare  yourself,  'Ria — I  could  box  your  ears  with 
my  own  hands.  There's  that  man  Neely  ;  you 
know  he  was  goose  enough  to  buy  up  confiscated 
property  right  and  left.  The  fact  is,  he  got  his 
hands  so  full  of  Confederate  money  with  his 
swindling  contracts  he  couldn't  get  rid  of  if  any 
way.  Well,  Mrs.  Ginnis  herself  told  me  yester- 
day that  Dr.  Peel  had  told  her  that  Neely  was 
moving  heaven  and  earth  to  trade  off'  all  his 
property  of  that  kind.  He  don't  care  what  for 
so  he  can  trade  it  off".  As  if  he  could  find  any 
body  fool  enough  to  take  him  up!  That  old 
Staples,  too,  they  tell  me  he  was  a  tailor  once ; 
any  body  who  ever  saw  him  walking  up  the  street 
could  tell  that  by  the  twist  in  his  legs,  his  hair 
sticking  out  in  every  direction — they  tell  me  he's 
making  desperate  efforts  to  do  the  same  thing. 
All  the  rest  of  them,  if  the  truth  was  known. 
You  may  thank  me  you  didn't  buy  any.  Of 
course  you  won't  remember  it,  you  never  do  any 
thing  I  say;  but  if  I  said  to  you  once,  don't  touch 
confiscated  property,  I  told  you  so  ten  thou- 
sand times.  And  there's  that  Brother  Barker, 
too,  as  they  call  him.  The  man  looks  as  if  he 
had  seen  a  ghost.  Not  that  he  doesn't  richly 
deserve  it ;  but  the  way  his  own  members  treat 
that  poor  creature  is  shameful.  But  you  ought 
to  see  Dr.  Ginnis ;  you  know  how  he  swells  up 
sometimes  ;  the  man  looks — I  noticed  him  close 
when  I  was  there  yesterday — flabby.    Always  so 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKUNICLE  UFttE(JE«6lUX. 


ly: 


full  of  talk  too ;  and  yesterday — you  know  I 
spent  the  day  there — he  didn't  have  one  word  to' 
sav.  But  1  did.  I  ain't  afraid  if  you  are.  I 
told  them  we  were  whipjicd,  whi])i)cd !  Tlicy 
said  Barker  and  all  tlieir  other  preai-hcrs  are 
urging  it  as  a  reason  why  the  South  sliuuld  hold 
out,  that,  if  the  Confederacy  is  whij»j)ed,  it  is  all 
over  with  their  denomination — a  blessed  rid- 
dance I  tiiought,  tiiough  1  didn't  say  so.  The 
only  tiling  Dr.  Ginnis  could  say  was  some  stuff 
about  peace  negotiations  going  on,  as  if — Wiiat 
is  tliat  you  say?  Humored  that  the  Confeder- 
acy has  been  recognized  by  France,  England, 
aitd  Spain?  Stuff!  You  may  be  fool  enough 
to  believe  it,  I  am  not.  If  we  are  doing  so  well 
as  you  say,  wliy  ain't  our  money  worth  more — 
hch  ?  There  was  tliat  Bob  Withers — Mr.  Gin- 
nis told  me  about  it  yesterday — went  and  tacked 
np  a  fifty-dollar  new  issue  note  on  the  wall  of 
his  office,  just  to  sec,  he  said,  if  any  body  would 
steal  it — stealing  as  they  arc  every  thing  else. 
Left  it  there  all  night.  What  do  you  think? 
Next  moraing  he  finds  it  there  still,  and  a  one- 
hundred-dollar  bill  stuck  up  beside  it  by  some- 
body else.  Oh,  hold  your  tongue.  Dr.  Warner, 
I  tell  you  we  arc  whipped  !  That  a  man  of 
your  sense — " 

Ye  sparkling  stars  I     Let  us  run. 

Dr.  Warner  did.  At  least,  did  not  run,  he  is 
altogetlier  too  fat  for  that,  walked  away  in  a 
disheveled  condition  of  hair  and  attire ;  but  he 
has  the  appearance  of  being  blown  about  rather 
by  gales  genial,  though  violent,  than  by  wintry 
blasts.  And  he  meets  upon  the  streets  this  brac- 
ing February  morning  of  sixty-five — who  does 
he  not  meet  in  fact? — old  Mr.  Adams,  who 
hooks  his  long  finger  into  the  Doctor's  button- 
hole to  tell  him  that  he  is  sending  a  wagon  with 
"  a  few  things" — at  least  a  hundred  dollars'  worth, 
b_v-the-by — up  to  help  Silas  Jewett's  family,  which 
Mr.  Adams  has  had  a  liint  are  in  a  needy  con- 
dition. Mrs.  Jewett  is  sick,  perhaps  Dr.  War- 
ner will  make  out  a  little  bill  of  such  medicines 
to  go  in  the  wagon,  as  he,  Dr.  W.,  may  think 
acceptable.  Which  the  Doctor  gladly  promises 
to  do,  laughing  off  the  earnest  offer  on  the  part 
of  thin  old  Mr.  Adams  to  pay  for  the  same. 
Fact  is,  among  the  Union  folks  just  now  each  lip 
is  quivering  so  with  Hail  Columbia,  each  heart 
is  so  much  a  Star-Spangled  Banner  struggling 
so  to  unfold  itself,  that  a  man  jumps  at  any  way 
of  showing  his  feelings. 

He  is  still  engaged  with  old  Mr.  Adams  when 
Mrs.  Smithers  passes  them,  tall,  red,  savage, 
and  cuts  them  both  down  with  her  eyes  in  pass- 
ing as  with  a  tomahawk — tut-traitors !  But  the 
Doctor  happens  next  npon  Bob  Withers  and  Cap- 
tain Simmons,  Dr.  Ginnis  joining  them  while 
they  stop  to  chat.  Friendly  ?  The  most  touch- 
ing affection  has  sprung  up  toward  Dr.  Warner. 
In  fact  no  Union  man  can  appear  on  the  streets 
now  but  some  old  Secession  acijuaintancc  is  sure 


j  to  stop  him  with  a  "Why,  how  are  you  ?"  and  a 
cordial  shake  of  tlie  liaud,  as  if  they  were  friends 
long  jjarted,  which  in  a  sense  is  nothing  but  the 
fact. 

Even  grim  Mr.  Ferguson,  having  posted  his 
Scrap-book  uji  to  date,  is  on  tiie  streets.  Mr. 
Arthur,  himself  respectfully  greeted  on  all  sides 

\  these  days,  can  not  but  smile  when  he  sees  Joe 
Stajiles  suddenly  recognize  the  Scotchman  with 
]»lea.sed  surprise,  and,  with  hands  years  ago  sol- 
emnly dedicated  by  Joe  to  the  hanging  of  Mr. 
Ferguson,  actually  but  resj)ectfully  seize  upon 
that  individual  and  draw  him  persuasively  aside 
to  "have  a  little  talk."  A  talk  in  which  Joe 
takes  occasion  to  bewail  the  infatuation  of  Dr. 

j  Ginnis,  Barker,  Lamum,  Wright,  and  others  in 

I  the  past,  and.to  thank  his  stars  that  though  "a 
man  in  my  position  would  not  dare  o])enly  and 

I  violently  to  opjiose  them,  you  know,  Sir,  I  all 
along  regretted  their  folly,  and  ke])t  off  from  the 
whole  thing  just  as  much  as  I  possibly  could. 
And  now,  Mr.  Ferguson,  if  any  man  in  Somer- 
ville,  as  I  have  said  a  thousand  times,  has  hard 
sense,  you  have,  when  do  you  think  this  thing 
is  going  to  end  ?  in  confidence,  now  ?" 

Truth  is,  as  the  scale  goes  down  with  the  one 
side  it  ascends  with  the  other.  The  joy  of  the 
hour  thrills  every  Union  heart  in  Somerville, 
irradiating  even  the  cellar  of  Alf  Morgan.  If 
things  improve  at  the  present  rate  it  will  require 
more  vigor  than  little  Mrs.  Budd  possesses  to 
keep  Alf  much  longer  in  bounds.  Do  what  she 
can,  he  will  hum  Hail  Columbia  and  whistle 
Yankee  Doodle  at  his  subterranean  shoe-making. 
The  foolish  fellow  actually  has  a  Union  flag 
down  there  "to  feel  of,"  he  says,  for  it  is  too 
dark  in  his  hole  to  see  it, 

]Mr.  Arthur  can  not  refrain  from  going  up  into 
Mr.  Ferguson's  room  to  have  a  laugh  over  mat- 
ters ;  for  we  Union  people  in  Somerville  feel  a 
deal  more  like  laughing  these  days  than  we  used 
to  do.  More  roses  in  Mrs.  Budd's  cheeks  now 
than  for  years  past,  as  Jem  says. 

"Every  Union  man  tells  me  the  same,"  Mr. 
Arthur  says,  "and  I  know  it  is  true  of  myself. 
People  that  haven't  spoken  to  you  for  years,  peo- 
ple that  have  cursed  you,  people  that  have  been 
scarce  restrained  by  the  Hand  that  withheld 
Saul  from  the  murder  of  David  from  killing 
you,  will  now  hardly  let  you  get  along  the  streets 
for  greetings.  You  notice  how  it  is  at  Sunday- 
school  and  church,  how  they  are  sending  back 
their  children  and  coming  back  themselves? 
Others,  I  dare  say,  if  shame  would  let  them. 
Not  Mr.  Ellis  though — he  is  grummer,  gruffer, 
more  distant  than  ever.  I  don't  know  how  many 
who  voted  against  Secession,  but  went  into  it 
and  became  the  most  bitter,  have  taken  occasion 
to  remind  me,  and  every  body  else,  I  suppose, 
of  their  original  ground  ;  though  once  they  be- 
wailed having  voted  for  the  Union  as  the  great- 
est of  their  shortcomings." 


196 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


THE   TEST  OF  CONFEDERATE  MONEY. 


"It  is  only  because  the  frogs,  lice,  flies,  mnr- 
rain,  boils,  hail,  locusts,  thick  darkness  have 
come  upon  them,  as  upon  the  Egyptians,"  says 
the  stony  Scotchman.  "You  know  as  well  as  I 
in  each  interval  of  disaster  these  people  are  as 


infatuated  as  ever.  I  would  not  be  surprised  if 
the  hand  of  God  is  lifted  from  them  yet  again, 
with  the  same  result.  Perhaps  when  the  last 
plague,  the  very  death  of  the  first-born,  has  be- 
fallen, even  Ellis  and  his  like  may  be  convinced. 


INSIDK.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SKCES8I0N. 


197 


I  never  thought  that  under  the  New  Testament 
Dispensation — so  deep  into  it  too— in  such  a 
Christian  land  as  tiiis  also — there  could  be  such  a 
revival  of  the  Mosaic  Dispensation,  as  it  were.  I 
tell  you,  Mr.  Arthur,"  continued  the  Scotchman, 
soleniulv,  "  when  I  consider  the  awful  judgments 
of  Jehovah — the  same  God  who  sent  the  Deluge, 
who  destroyed  the  Cities  of  the  Plain,  who  slew 
the  Canaanites,  who  dealt  so  terribly  with  the 
Hebrews,  upon  this  land  during  this  fearful  war 
— I  tremble  while  I  adore.  Even  though  lie  be 
merciful  in  Jesus  Christ,  He  is  a  just  God  still. 
This  is  the  new  dispensation,  I  know ;  but  His 
most  terrible  manifestation  of  wrath  against  sin 
is  yet  to  be  made — the  destruction  of  this  globe 
by  fire.  The  Pope  and  the  Turk  are  to  fall  in 
sixty-six,  are  they  ?  The  Apostle  says  there  are 
many  Antichrists ;  who  knows  what  awful  times 
may  be  in  reserve  for  England,  and  Scotland 
even,  to  say  nothing  of  other  parts  of  the  world, 
for  who  of  you  here  had  before  supposed  that 
Slavery  was  an  Antichrist  which  had  to  go  down 
in  fire,  and  blood  and  earthquake,  as  well  as  the 
Pope? 

"  Hold  on  a  moment !"  Mr.  Ferguson  adds, 
to  his  friend,  at  last  rising  to  leave.  "  I  want  to 
prove  to  you  that  the  universal  insubordination 
all  through  the  Confederacy,  which  all  the  papers 
are  bewailing  so,  is  an  inevitable  fruit  of  the 
very  principle  of  Secession.  It  struck  so  effective 
n  blow  at  the  veiy  idea  of  Law,  Order,  Govern- 
ment, as  to  kill  that  vital  thing  even  for  their 
own  use.  Besides,  I  want  to  show  you  from  my 
Scrap-book  that  no  two  men  South,  however  de- 
voted to  Secession,  can  agree  on  any  one  thing 
under  Secession.  Truth,  you  observe,  is  one ; 
while  Falsehood  is  as  millionfold  as  the  shifting 
clouds.  So  sure  as  one  man  advances  his  opin- 
ions upon  foreign  intervention,  employment  of 
negroes  in  the  army — whatever  it  is,  another  is 
sure  to  start  up  and  vehemently  dispute  it.  It 
is  like  the  contentions  of  infidels — " 

But  if  Mr.  Arthur  can  listen  to  such  treason 
we  can  not. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

If  ever  a  man  was  justifiable  in  flying  to  the 
flowing  bowl  to-night  surely  that  man  is  Alonzo 
Wright.  True,  he  has  made  solemn  oath  not  to 
take  another  drop,  Christmas  having  witnessed 
his  last  awful  frolic,  witli  the  death  of  a  favorite 
negro  man  somehow  mixed  up  in  its  frantic  fes- 
tivities, until  next  Fourth  of  July,  unless,  Mr. 
Wright  most  carefully  stipulates  in  his  vow,  we 
gain  onr  independence  before  then ;  in  which 
latter  case  he,  Tim  Lamum,  Dr.  Peel,  Bob  With- 
ers, and  a  few  other  like  spirits,  arc  solemnly 
j)ledged  to  each  other  to  have  abont  the  greatest 
time  of  it  yet  known  on  earth  ;   Captain  Richard 


MR.    wr.lOnT   AT   HOME. 


Simmons  moving  and  assisting  unanimously  to 
carry  said  proviso. 

A  dozen  times  has  Mr.  Wright  assured  Anne, 
hanging  with  silent  importunity  upon  his  arm 
on  this  as  well  as  eveiy  other  occasion  of  his 
leaving  home  for  Somerville,  that  he  will  not 
taste,  touch,  smell  a  drop,  not  even  go  on  the 
side  of  the  sti'eet  where  the  grocery  is.  For  Mr. 
Wright  is  far  from  being  an  austere  father. 
Anne  has  grown  up  in  his  eyes  the  fairest  and 
loveliest  and  most  thoroughly  accomplished  of 
women.  There  is  a  droop  in  her  large  blue  eyes, 
a  wave  and  fall  in  her  fair  hair,  a  mould  of  her 
form,  an  altogether  indescribable  sweetness  in 
manner  and  tone  which  would  attach  any  father 
in  the  world.  In  addition  to  her  being  his  only 
child  and  chiefest  companion,  she  is  her  dead 
mother  over  again.  Very  often,  indeed,  of  even- 
ings, when  Anne  sits  at  the  piano,  her  fingers 
straying  over  the  keys  from  one  piece  to  anoth- 
er, singing  half  a  song  here,  another  half  there, 
breaking  out  in  some  brilliant  bravura,  or  idling 
through  the  tangles  of  a  sehottiche,  does  her  fa- 
ther sit,  cigar  in  mouth,  looking  at  and  loving 
her  with  all  the  admiration  and  love  of  his  soul. 
A  rather  small,  ligiit-complexioned  man  is  Mr. 
Wright,  but  your  big  burly  ])eople  never  feci 
most.  It  is  in  the  slight-built  organizations  you 
find  fire  and  force ;  leanness  and  ferocity  arc 
coupled  in  the  wild-cat,  vivacity  and  venom  in 
viper  and  rattlesnake. 

In  fact,  this  Anne  at  least  is  "all  the  world 
to"  her  father.     At  the  head  of  his  table ;  her 


198 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


graceful  form  about  the  house  all  day  in  diligent 
housekeeping ;  persuading  and  remonstrating 
with  tlie  servants,  who  serve  the  family  won- 
drous well  under  the  double  impulse  of  mortal 
terror  of  "Mas  'Lonz,"  on  the  one  side,  and  de- 
voted attachment  to  "Missanny,"  as  they  call 
her,  on  the  other ;  even  when  Dr.  Peel  or  other 
company  are  being  entertained  in  the  parlor, 
Mr.  Wright,  proudly  conscious  of  Anne  from  the 
moment  he  awakes  in  the  morning  till  he  kicks 
off  his  boots  at  night,  can  join  in  whatever  de- 
nunciation of  the  Yankees  is  going  on  between 
him  and  the  gentleman  with  whom  he  is  con- 
versing, and  be  keenly  alive  all  the  time  to  the 
ever-varying  loveliness  of  Anne  on  the  other  side 
of  the  room. 

Why  conceal  these  bitterest  pangs  of  remorse 
which  give  such  intensity  to  Mr.  Wright's  pater- 
nal affection  ?  Yes,  Anne  is  like  her  mother, 
most  like  that  mother  when  at  her  loveliest ;  and 
tiiere  were  hushed  whisiiers  in  the  community 
in  which  Mr.  Wright  lived  at  the  time  of  his 
wife's  death,  vague  rumors  from  family  servants, 
and  from  friends  who  prci)ared  the  body  for 
burial,  of  bruises  and  marks.  Let  us  say  no 
more  about  it  where  nothing  certain  is  known. 
No  man  knows  better  than  Mr.  Wright  that  he 
is  a  devil  incarnate  in  his  cups,  and  the  demoniac 
love  of  liquor  which  possesses  the  man  is  re- 
strained only  by  his  love  for  his  daughter,  and 
mortal  dread  of  what  he  may  do  to  her  in  some 
moment  of  intoxication. 

And  yet,  reasoning  with  thousands  of  other 
Secessionists  at  the  same  instant,  if  ever  a  man 
was  justifiable,  every  thing  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding, in  drowning  his  sorrows  in  the 
bowl  to-night  that  man  is  Alonzo  Wright.  As 
an  almost  universal  rule,  even  those  of  the  Se- 
cession loaders,  in  the  army  and  out  of  it,  who 
never  drank  before,  are  taking  to  drinking  now. 
As  to  those  who  have  drunk  liard  all  along,  these 
do  nothing  else  now  at  all. 

"Why,  look  at  it,  gentlemen,"  says  Captain 
Richard  Simmons,  who  sits  to-night  on  tlie  coun- 
ter of  the  grocery,  hrs  left  arm  around  a  pillar, 
from  whicii  hang  the  fly-specked  festoons  of  red, 
white,  yellow,  and  blue  paper  cut  into  meshes 
adorning  the  ceiling,  expressing,  for  Tim  Lam- 
um,  who  sits  dead  drunk  in  an  adjoining  arm- 
chair, and  for  Bob  Withers,  who  smokes  in  si- 
lence, and  for  Dr.  Peel,  whose  speech  is  exclu- 
sively oaths,  and  for  Alonzo  Wright,  who  is 
brooding  over  the  times,  seated  on  the  card-ta- 
ble, his  slouched  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  the 
painful  feelings  of  all. 

"  Only  permit  your  eyes  to  range  over  the  sit- 
uation, as  Lamum  says  in  the  Star.  A  Yan- 
kee, gentlemen,  Lamum  is,"  adds  Captain  Sim- 
mons, impressively.  "It  ma}'  be  a  weakness 
inherent  in  my  nature ;  I've  tried  to  master  it 
again  and  yet  again.  I  will  be  frank  with  you ; 
I  can  not.     My  soul  abhors  a  Yankee.     Never 


mind  about  his  professed  devotion  to  the  Con- 
federacy. A  lifetime  spent  in  fiercest  ardor  for 
it  would  not  satisfy  me.  My  nature  revolts  from 
a  Yankee.  There's  old  Nccly — a  Yankee  school- 
master!  Who  so  loud  and  strong  for  the  South  ? 
Insisting  on  shaking  my  hand  every  time  we 
met  over  our  glorious  victories.  I  pledge  you 
my  word  of  honor,  gentlemen,  I  always  went 
straight  to  my  room  at  Staples's  and  washed  my 
hands  with  soap  every  time.  Natural  antipa- 
thies? For  one,  gentlemen,  I  loathe,  abominate, 
detest,  execrate — " 

"Oh,  hold  your  horses,  Simmons,  by  George  I 
who  knows?  You  maybe  one  yourself.  I'ed- 
dled  tin  ware  for  years  for  what  we  know.  Very 
likely  all  your  talk  only  a  Yankee  trick  to  throw 
us  off." 

"If  it  is  by  such  bufToonery,  Bob  Withers, 
you  seek  to  divert  our  minds  in  this  dark  hour 
of  our  country's  distress  your  remarks  arc  be- 
neath, because  doubly  beneath,  my  notice. 
Charleston  fallen,  gentlemen  I"  continues  Cap- 
tain Simmons,  dismissing  Mr.  Withers  from  ex- 
istence by  a  slow  wave  of  his  hand.  "I  can  not 
realize  it.  The  fact  is,  it  is  a  thing  which  can 
not  be  realized.  I  can  imagine  Wilmington 
fallen.  I  do  not  deny  that  Petersljurg  and  Rich- 
mond are  polluted  by  feet  I  never  dreamed  would 
tread  them.  That  General  Lee  has  surrender- 
ed, though  it  was  infinitely  worse  than  death  to 
me,  I  can  because  I  must  believe.  Nor  do  I  re- 
fuse to  acknowledge  that  Mobile  is  occupied ; 
that  Johnston,  whom  I  revered  next  to  Lee  and 
Davis,  has  also  surrendered.  Dick  Taylor's  sur- 
render smites  us  to-day  like  the  hand  of  fate. 
But  Charleston !  I''rom  every  other  considera- 
tion my  soul  reverts  to  Charleston.  I  can  not 
realize  it,  gentlemen.  I  may  succeed  in  some 
degree  by  the  time  I  have  retired  at  night,  but 
the  first  thing  I  know  I  find  myself  sitting  bolt 
upright  in  bed,  during  the  silent  watches  of  the 
midnight  hour,  in  a  cold  sweat,  and  exclaim- 
ing, '  By  Him  who  made  me,  it  is  not,  must 
not,  shall  not,  can  not  be  so!  Charleston? 
C-h-a-r-1-es-ton !     Impossible !" 

"Why  not  get  up  a  theory,  Simmons?"  says 
Dr.  Peel,  scrupulously  neat  in  attire,  while  the 
rest  are  disordered  in  apparel  to  the  last  degree ; 
in  the  highest  spirits,  whether  from  liquor  or 
not,  though  he  does  not  show  any  signs  of  in- 
toxication other  than  that,  while  his  comrades, 
Bob  Withers  excepted,  can  not  drink  enough  to 
float  them  even  to  ordinary  water-mark.  "You 
proved  to  us,  Simmons,  in  this  very  room  that 
Charleston,  Wilmington,  Petersburg,  and  Rich- 
mond, if  evacuated,  would  only  be  so  in  pursu- 
ance of  Lee's  new  plan  of  abandoning  the  sea- 
coast  and  concentrating  in  the  interior — a  new 
plan,  splendid  plan.  When  Lee  surrendered 
you  were  ready  for  that.  Lee  always  had  a  rea- 
son for  what  he  did.  Lee  had  sent  all  his  vet- 
erans to  Johnston,  and  surrendered  as  a  con- 


INSIDE.— A  CIIUONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


199 


summnte  ruse!  Come,  Captain,  j-oii  Imvc  nev- 
er wanted  for  a  theory  before ;  make  liaste. 
Where  is  your  inventive  faculty?  Some  brill- 
iant sehenie,  if  we  only  knew  what  it  was,  be- 
hind ail  this  news  you  arc  wailing  over."  And 
Dr.  Peel  flashes  his  white  teeth  upon  him,  in  sin- 
gular spirits  considering'  tlie  times. 

"Sir,"  replies  Captain  Siminuns,  witli  oracu- 
lar dignity,  "I  wait  to  hear  from  President  Da- 
vis. I  can  see  dec]>  meaning  in  the  consummate 
silence  of  that  Washington  of  our  glorious  revo- 
lution." 

"  You  can  ?  By  George,  I  can't !  What  is  the 
use  of  being  a  drove  of  geese  fiU/,  gentlemen  ?" 

It  is  Bob  Withers  who  propounds  tiie  ques- 
tion, rising  from  his  seat  to  do  it.  "Very  much 
inflamed  is  Bob's  face  tlies*  trying  times,  from 
excessive  weeping,  perhaps.  But  it  is  an  honest, 
sensible,  good-humored,  Bacchus-like  face,  too. 

"  I  always  looked  on  the  thing  as  a  big  spree, 
and  you  know  I  always  said  so.  I  knew  it  was 
all  wrong  from  the  start,  ruinous  and  wrong  as 
any  tiling  gets  to  be  in  this  world,  a  tremendous 
frolic.  We  all  went  into  it.  Of  course  I  wasn't 
the  man  to  stay  behind.  It  was  the  wildest, 
most  expensive,  biggest  spree  you  ever  saw,  and 
I  pitched  in.  Yes,  and  would  do  it  again  to- 
morrow if  it  was  to  do  over  again  ;  never  backed 
out  when  half  a  dozen  fellows  inyited  me  to  go 
in.  When  the  whole  South  got  drunk,  think 
I'm  going  to  keep  sober?  But  the  smash  up 
has  come  at  last — it  ivill  come.  Broken  win- 
dows and  crockery  and  tables  to  pay  for,  head- 
ache, empty  purse,  black  eyes,  men  killed.  But 
wasn't  it  the  grandest  blow  out !  But  I  knew  all 
along  it  was  a  spree,  always  said  so  ;  they  could 
never  humbug  me,  by  George !  with  their  lies. 
No,  Sir-ree,  bob !" 

'•There  is  this  one  consolation,  gentlemen," 
remarks  Captain  Simmons,  more  Chcsterfieldian 
the  drunker  he  gets,  with  a  solemn  air,  and  wav- 
ing gracefully  aside  the  volatility  of  their  Mer- 
cutio — "one  consolation  which  fills  my  nature 
in  this  hour  of  darkness  with  profound  satisfac- 
tion— the  killing  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  Had  I 
an  offspring  I  would  have  him  baptized  Booth 
Simmons.  Even  in  my  jjangs  of  bitterest  mor- 
tification at  the  failure,  if  failure  it  is,  of  our  be- 
loved Confederacy,  I  say  to  myself,  '  Captain 
Simmons,  Captain  Simmons,  you  forget  that 
Lincoln  the  tyrant  is  at  this  moment  in  eternal 
perdition.  Like  the  balm  of  some  place  of  which 
I  was  instructed  by  jiious  parents — Gilead  I  think 
is  the  name — the  reflection  soothes,  at  least  for 
the  moment,  the  anguisli  of  my  spirit." 

"The  last  place  I  would  tliink  yon  would  wish 
Lincoln  to  go  to,  Simmons,"  remarks  Dr.  Peel, 
with  great  surprise. 

"Exactly  what  I  was  going  to  say,  Doctor, 
by  George !"  puts  in  Bob  Withers. 

"May  I  request  an  cxjilanation,  gentlemen?" 
asks  Captain  Simmons,  w  ith  his  stateliest  air. 


•"I  would  think  you  would  much  rather  he 
had  gone  to  heaven.  You  have  hated  him  so 
much  here  pne  would  suppose  you  would  regret 
being  associated  eternally  with  him  hereafter," 
rci)lies  Dr.  Peel,  wiili  Mr.  Withers's  cordial  as- 
sent. 

"  If  there  be  a  thing  which  disgusts  mc  more 
I  tlnin  all  besides  with  inebriety,"  says  Caj)taiii 
Simmons,  with  slow  and  unspeakable  scorn,  "it 
is  the  reckless  impiety  and  irreligion  too  often 
connected  with  it.  No  merit  in  myself,  seeing 
my  early  advantages,  my  inculcated  habit  of 
worshiping  from  earliest  infancy  in  the  sanctu- 
ary. Be  drunkards,  gentlemen,  if  you  must," 
adds  Captain  Simmons,  with  impressive  solem- 
nity, "but  not  scuff'ers — no,  not  scoff'ers.  "Tis 
the  voice  of  the  scoft'er,  I  hear  him  complain.' 
Not  exactly  that,  but  something  to  that  effect 
was  instilled — " 

"We  respect  your  piety,  Simmons,"  inter- 
rupts Dr.  Peel.  "It  is  fully  equal  to  that  of 
Parson  Barker,  at  least;  he  told  mc  to-day  that 
it  was  not  so  much  the  hand  of  Booth  as  the 
hand  of  God.  Ilis  only  regret,  he  says,  is  that 
Booth  did  not  kill  him  on  the  day  of  his  inau- 
guration. Dozens  of  church-members — lying 
Sam  Peters,  Dr.  Ginnis,  and  the  like — say  they 
arc  glad  of  the  assassination,  regret  that  it  failed 
in  the  case  of  Seward,  hope  the  good  work  will 
go  on.  Even  that  little  saint,  Ellis,  the  sin- 
cerest  and  best  of  them  all,  got  almost  drunk 
with  joy  over  it."  From  this  statement,  how- 
ever, the  writer  of  these  lines  distinctly  witli- 
holds  his  belief. 

Let  us  step  out  of  this  choice  set  of  compan- 
ions, only  for  a  moment,  to  say  a  word  as  to  the 
way  in  which  the  killing  of  Mr!  Lincoln  was  re- 
ceived in  Somerville. 

There  is  Jem  Budd.  When  Staples,  every 
hair  on  end,  rushes  into  Jem's  shop  and  an- 
nounces the  glorious  news,  that  dirty-faced  ar- 
tisan pauses  long  enough,  with  suspended  file,  to 
say,  "Ah!"  with  genuine  surprise;  to  add  im- 
mediately after,  as  he  continues  his  filing  at  the 
gun-barrel  clenched  in  the  vice  before  him,  "Just 
what  I  always  said."  It  is  but  history  to  record, 
however,  that  when  Dr.  Warner  drops  in  a  mo- 
ment after  to  ask  after  Mrs.  Budd's  very  preca- 
rious health,  and  to  tell  Jem — of  coui-se  that 
was  altogether  a  secondary  motive — the  news 
of  the  surrender  of  General  Lee,  which  comes 
by  the  same  mail,  but  which  Staples  has  neglect- 
ed to  mention,  the  gun-smith  stops  altogether 
from  his  work,  and,  adding  largely  to  the  dark- 
ness of  his  nose  by  a  long  reflective  rub  thereof 
with  his  forefinger,  has  genuine  joy  in  his  eyes 
while  he  says,  "Precisely  so.  Doctor;  what  I 
always  thought." 

The  fact  is,  no  sentiment,  whatever  it  was. 
whether  Union  or  Secession,  has  ever  been  ad- 
vanced in  Jem's  hearing  since  the  war  began 
which  has  not  met  in  Jem  a  ready  assent.    Like 


200 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


hundreds  of  thousands  of  others  at  the  South 
during  this  period,  Jem  lias  i>ut  put  in  practice 
Talleyrand's  famous  maxim — that  words  were 
given  to  us  to  enable  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts. 

There  is  Mr.  Ferguson,  too.     Very  eagerly  he 
pastes  in  the  dispatch  announcing  the  assassina- 
tion, with  every  thing  relating  to  it,  but  as  the 
grandest  of  all  the  lies,  the  very  blossoming  and 
perfection  of  the  lies  of  the  period.     Only  his 
sincere  affection  for  Mr.  Arthur  will  afford  him 
patience  with  the  unaffected  belief  that  gentle- 
man, gives  to  the  news  from  the  outset.     He 
even  condescends,  tlie  Scotchman,  to  argue. with 
his  friend.     Mr.  Lincoln  would  have  been  as- 
sassinated in  Kichmond  if  at  all.     How  could  , 
he  have  been  killed  in  a  crowded  theatre,  and 
the  murderer  escape?     Besides,  it  is  known  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  is  a  member  of  the  Presbyterian  j 
Church,  and  consequently  no  attendant  at  thea- 
tres.    Can  not  Mr.  Arthur  see  that  the  news  is  t 
manufactured  to  accompany  and  neutralize  the  , 
tidings  of  Lee's  surrender?     The  trick  is  too 
transparent.  | 

A  tremendous  amount  of  evidence  it  took  to 
convince  us  Secessionists  that  Vicksburg  had 
fallen,  and  all  the  rest;  we  do  not  want  to  be- 
lieve it,  you  observe,  therefore  we  won't.  Alas, 
we  should  all  be  descended  from  the  same  Adam ! 
But  the  amount  of  evidence  it  required  to  satis- 
fy us  Union  people  that  Burnside  was  repulsed 
on  the  Kappahannock  and  the  like  is  incredible.  • 
If  the  heart  would  not  get  so  dreadfully  in  the 
way  of  the  head !  j 

As  wide  apart  as  Heaven  and  Hades  are  the 
brutal  rejoicings  of  rod-faced  Mrs.  Smithers  and 
the  sincere  regrets  of  Mrs.  Bowles  over  the  same 
event.  Not  even  Mrs.  Smithers's  deliberate  and 
permanent  sentiment,  let  us  hope. 

"I  regret  it,  Alice  dear,  even  more  than  I  . 
would  dcjdore  the  fact  of  General  Lee's  surren-  j 
der,  if  such  preposterous  news  should  prove  true, 
which  I  can  not  for  one  instant  believe.   I  thank 
God  the  miserable  wretch  who  did  the  dreadful 
deed  was  no  South  Carolinian — a  Yankee,  I  am 
told,  or  from  some  State  bordering  thereupon. 
For  Mr.  Lincoln  you  well  know  my  unspeak- 
able loathing,  but  I  would  rather  be  even  his 
wife  than  the  wife  of  his  assassin.     Read  on,  i 
Alice."  For^NIrs.  Bowles  has  stopped  her  daugh- 
ter in  her  reading  of  the  paper  to  say  that  much.  [ 

"  Poor  dear  Mrs.  Bowles  !  Heaven  knows  I 
never  loved  her  so  much  in  all  our  long,  long 
knowledge  of  each  other  as  I  do  now,"  is  Mrs. 
Sorel's  frequent  remark  of  her  to  Mr.  Arthur. 
"  She  has  not  been  in  my  house  for  years,  nor  I 
in  hers,  lest  I  should  distress  her  with  my  presence, 
as  you  know.  She  regards  me  with — with  aver-  ; 
sion,  or  rather  horrified  amazement,  because  I 
can  not  believe  with  her  in  Secession.  I  have 
no  feeling  for  her — how  could  I  have  ? — but  one 
of  love  and  pity.  Alice  told  me  about  her  when 
she  was  here  last,  reduced  to  a  shadow,  pale  and 


fragile  as  a  flower,  her  hair  all  white  now  with 
mental  distress,  yet  quiet  and  refined  and  still. 
I  tell  you,  Mr.  Arthur,"  adds  placid  Mrs.  Sorel, 
herself  the  counterpart  of  the  one  she  is  describ- 
ing, and  with  warmth,  "I  am  an  old  woman 
now.  I  once  lived  in  as  elevated  though  plain 
a  circle  as  this  country  possesses,  but  I  never 
saw  a  human  being  who  came  so  near  my  ideal 
of  a  perfect  Cliristian  lady  as  Mre.  Alice  Bowles. 
I  see  what  you  are  thinking  about,"  she  adds, 
with  a  smile,  to  Mr.  Arthur,  who  flushes  over 
face  and  ears  at  her  glance.  "Yes,  and  you 
will  be  a  most  fortunate  man,  as  the  phrase 
runs,  if  you  succeed  there.  Alice  has  something 
of  her  father's  obstinacy — w  illfulness  you  would 
prefer  having  it  called  ;  is  of  stronger  character 
than  her  mother ;  ^ill  have  all  her  mother's 
sweetness  if  she  has  all  her  mother's  amount  of 
trial,  discipline,  sorrow." 

"Do  you  think,  Mrs.  Sorel,"  begins  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, eagerly — "do  you  imagine  there  is  any 
hope  for  me  ?  Tier  mother  has  such  horror  of 
my  Union  opinions  I  no  longer  even  enter  the 
house.  Alice,  you  know,  has  long  since  ceased 
to  attend  church.  She  is  so  engaged  in  her 
school,  too,  I  never  see  her." 

"I  have  never  asked  Alice,"  says  Mrs.  Sorel, 
with  a  smile,  "but  I  do  not  think  you  need  de- 
spair. Wait  till  the  war  is  over.  You  two  are 
undergoing  discipline  which  is  good  for  you 
both—" 

"That  abominable  school,"  breaks  in  her  im- 
pulsive friend.  "The  idea  of  a  woman  who 
would  adorn  a  throne  teaching !  And  teach- 
ing such  children  as  we  have  in  Somerville  I 
Wasting  her  health." 

"  She  is  doing  no  such-  thing.  I  never  saw 
her  looking  more  beautiful  in  my  life  than  when 
she  was  here  on  that  last  Saturday.  Propriety 
requires  that,  under  all  the  painful  circumstan- 
ces, painful  and  ])eculiar  circumstances  of  the 
case,  she  should  cease  to  attend  your  church. 
Besides,  you  do  not  realize.  Sir,"  adds  M\s. 
Sorel,  very  gravely  indeed,  "how  poor,  how- 
very  poor  Mrs.  Bowles  has  become.  Alice  is 
doing,  and  doing  eagerly  and  well,  her  simple 
duly  in  supjjorting  her  mother.  And  it  is  just 
the  discipline  Alice  needs  to  qualify  her  for  the 
new  times  before  us." 

"New?  Yes,  the  bran-new,  the  happy,  the 
glorious  times  before  us!"  says  Mr.  Arthur,  with 
almost  boyish  enthusiasm.  "I  tell  you,  Mrs. 
Sorel,  we  are  entering  on  such  an  epoch  in  the 
history  of  America  as  even  that  blessed  old  Bish- 
op Berkeley  never  dreamed  of  when  he  proph- 
esied of  the  star  of  empire  centuries  ago.  Slav- 
ery and  Secession  forever  rooted  out,  one  glori- 
ous flag  from  the  Arctic  circle  to  the  equator, 
purified  by  our  terrible  ordeal,  who  can  tell  ? 
That  poor  IMr.  Barker  may  be  in  part  right  at 
last — ours  may  be  the  great  millennial  nation ! 
I  tell  you,  Robby,"  and  Mr.  Arthur;  excited  by 


INSIDE.— A  CHHONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


201 


his  national,  and  of  coui*se  without  reference  to 
his  individual  prosjjccts  regarding  Alice,  claps 
that  sedate  young  gentioiuau  uu  the  shoulder, 
"we  will  have  grand  times,  won't  we?" 

♦'  When  Mr.  Brooks  is  hack  for  good  ?  Yes," 
adds  that  sober  youth,  "and  I  know  the  time 
ain't  far  oft".  People  don't  ask  me  these  days 
how  that  Abolitionist  Arthur  comes  on,  nor  yell 
at  nie  and  tiirow  rocks.  Only  last  time  I  was 
in  town  Mr.  Staples  stopped  me  to  shake  hands 
and  ask  after  you  all.  lie  was  as  kind  as  you 
please,  told  me  just  to  let  him  know  if  his  son 
Joe  ever  said  a  thing  out  of  the  way  to  me,  that 
was  all.  Humph,  I  saw  Dr.  Ginnis  go  all  the 
way  over  the  street  to  stop  Mr.  Ferguson,  and 
insisted  on  shaking  hands,  which  it  ain't  easy  to 
get  ^Ir.  Ferguson  to  do  with  any  body;  and  I've 
heard  Dr.  Ginnis  tell  Jem  Budd,  long  ago,  that 
that  old  traitor  of  a  Scotch  Abolitionist  ought  to 
be  huui;  high  as  Hainan." 

"That  will  do,  Kobby,"  interrupts  his  mother, 
checking  with  uplifted  hand  Robby's  eager  cx- 
jicricnces.  "I  am  too  old  for  all  this,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur. It  bewilders  me.  Charleston  and  Co- 
lumbia, the  whole  of  my  native  State,  in  fact, 
so  terribly  scourged  !  You  must  excuse  me — we 
South  Carolinians  can  not  help  it.  I  smile  at 
Mrs.  Bowles,  and  am  just  as  foolish  about  the 
State  as  she.  I  don't  like  to  hear  or  talk  or  think 
about  it.  The  Judge  of  all  the  earth  will  do 
right." 

And  it  is  just  this  that  more  than  bewilders 
good  Mrs.  Bowles  too.  The  long  holding  out 
of  Charleston  elevated  it  and  South  Carolina  to 
even  a  degree  above  her  already-intense  idola- 
try of  them.  She  regarded  the  arrival  of  Sher- 
man at  Savannah,  and  his  setting  out  upon  his 
march  into  South  Carolina  without  one  particle 
of  apprehension ;  with  joy  rather.  Napoleon 
never  had,  in  the  fullest  tide  of  his  victories,  so 
calm,  so  confident,  so  absolutely  exultant  a  sense 
of  a])proaching  success  in  a  battle.  So  surely  as 
the  sun  shone,  so  surely  as  South  Carolina  was 
South  Carolina,  would  the  insulting  foe  meet  on 
its  soil  with  terrible  defeat,  ilrs.  Bowles  could 
see  the  hand  of  God  in  it : 

"  Your  dear  native  State,  Alice,  and  mine  be- 
gan this  great  revolution,  and  will  end  it.  Heav- 
en has  permitted  a  Federal  army  to  get  to  the 
State  by  an  unexpected  military  movement,  by 
almost  a  miracle,  for  this  purpose.  How  little 
does  that  man  Sherman  think  it!  I  thank  God 
from  my  soul.  Who  of  us  could  have  arranged, 
or  even  have  imagined  it  all  so  well?  People 
will  flock  for  generations  to  South  Carolina  as 
they  now  do  to  Waterloo,  or  as  I  am  told  they 
sometimes  do  to  Yorktown  there  in  Virginia. 
That  the  Thermopylae  of  our  revolution  should 
be  there  !  I  loved  the  State  before  ;  henceforth 
every  grain  of  its  sand,  the  leaves  of  its  every 
tree  are  dear  to  me ;  every  one  born  on  its  dear 
surface  is  to  me  dearer  than  relatives.     Remem- 


ber it,  Alice — henceforth  let  your  own  South 
Carolina — how  musical  the  very  name! — be  next 
with  you  to  heaven  and  God  !"  ami  the  tiiin, 
pale,  classic  face  glows  with  enthusiasm.  "You 
know  I  told  you,  Alice,  all  the  two  weeks  dur- 
ing which  we  had  those  rumors  (jf  the  capture 
of  Sherman  in  Georgia,  I  knew — hoped,  at  least, 
it  could  not  be  true.  South  Carolina,  I  felt,  was 
to  be  the  hallowed  spot." 

"The  people  of  Savannah  do  not  seem  to  be 
as  patriotic,"  begins  Alice. 

"Actually  admitting  the  Federals  without 
burning  their  cotton,  receiving  food  at  tiieir 
hands.  That  illustrates  what  I  am  saying," 
Mrs.  Bowles  interrupts  Alice,  witli  enthusiasm  ; 
"do  you  not  see  it  is  as  a  foil  to  Charleston? 
The  very  contrast  between  Georgia  and  our 
State,  between  Savannah  and  Charleston,  will 
show  the  world  what  South  Carolina  is.  To 
think  the  two  States  are  actually  contiguous!" 

How  can  Mrs.  Bowles's  eager  expectation  of 
the  news  of  the  great  battle  be  described?  Most 
seriously  did  Alice  tremble  for  her  mother's  very 
mind.  No  other  topic  was  on  her  mother's  lips 
when  they  are  sewing  together  on  Saturdays  and 
by  night.  No  other  thought  in  her  mind  while 
alone,  Alice  teaching  in  the  little  front  office. 
Waking  often  during  the  night  at  every  distant 
sound,  fancying  the  arrival  of  the  news  in  every 
distant  cry,  in  every  footstep  passing.  Even 
Rutledge  Bowles  is  comparatively  forgotten, 
though  in  every  prayer  for  him — and  they  as- 
cend as  from  an  ever-burning  altar — more  than 
for  his  health,  more  than  for  his  life  even,  is  it 
her  supplication  that,  if  it  please  God,  Rutledge 
Bowles  may  have  part  in  the  great  victory.  Bet- 
ter, far  better  his  death  on  that  glorious  field 
than  that  he  should  be  absent  from  it ! 

I      How  describe  the  steady  arrival  of  the  news 

of  Sherman's  unopposed  march  across  the  State ! 

"They  are  gatiicring,  concentrating  the;  army 

somewhere  further  north  in  the  State  to  make 

i  the  victory  complete  and  final!"  she  cxi>]ains 

'  to  Alice,   rcjieating  it  over  and  over.      Alice 

,  breaks  tiie  fall  of  Charleston  to  her  tremblingly 
as  she  would  the  death  of  a  dear  friend. 

"Only  evacuating  it,  child,  for  a  few  days,  so 
little  do  you  understand  of  military  matters. 
You  see,  they  wish  to  swell  the  army  with  its 

!  garrison,  so  as  to  leave  not  one  man  of  the  Fed- 
eral army  to  escape  death  or  capture — yes,  cap- 
ture. I  pray  God  our  army  may  be  merciful  in 
the  hour  of  its  great  triumph  ,  their  awful  wrongs 
are  enough  to  exasperate.  Heaven  knows ;  but 

1  in  the  moment  of  victory  the  brave  are  ever  mer- 
ciful.    Only  a  few  days,  dear,  and  we  shall  hear 

I  of  the  reoceupation  of  Charleston  after  the  vic- 
tory Let  me  see  the  map  again.  Columbia  ? 
Yes,  Columbia — see  if  I  am  not  a  true  prophet — 
Columbia  is  about  the  centre  of  the  State.  I 
would  like  the  victory  to  be  there."  And  Alice 
almost  shudders  at  the  light  in  her  mother's  eye, 


202 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


the  spot  of  red  in  her  cheek,  the  uncertain  mo- 
tion of  her  thin  white  liand  about  her  forehead. 

Ah,  that  wandering  of  the  hand  about  the  edges 
of  the  smootii  white  hair,  rubbing  tiie  brow,  with 
the  thoughtful  e^'es  fixed  absently  on  book,  or 
sewing,  lying  neglected  in  tiie  lap.  As  Dr.  War- 
ner has  told  Alice  and  Mrs.  Bowles  herself  many, 
very  many  times,  the  poor  lady  is  wearing  her- 
self literally  to  a  sh.idow  by  her  intense  excite- 
ment.    Alice  and  the  Doctor  do  all  they  can. 

"Thank  you,  Dr.  Warner;  don't  be  foolish, 
Alice.  I  need  no  medicine  or  rest.  I  never  felt 
better  in  my  life;  hardly  ever  felt  so  well.  When 
it  comes,  Alice,  bring  me  the  accounts  of  the 
victory — that  will  be  tlie  best  medicine  in  the 
world;  next  to  hearing  it  from  Kutledge  Bowles 
I  want  to  have  it  first  from  your  lijis,  Alice." 
But  the  poor  frail  hand  wanders  about  tlic  fore- 
head, and  Alice  clasps  it  in  hers,  and  kisses  her 
mother  there,  and  bursts  into  tears. 

"  Wi)at  a  fond,  foolish  creature  you  are,  Alice  ?" 
says  her  mother,  half  indignantly.  "You  arc 
getting  positively  nervous  and  morbid,  confining 
yourself  so  to  that  odious  school.  You  sew  too 
steadily." 

"But  mother,  dear  mamma,"  ventures  Alice, 
Dr.  Warner  being  there  to  back  her,  "suppose, 
after  all,  the  Federals  should  not  be  wliipped?" 

"You  cowardly  croaker,"  says  Mrs.  Bowles, 
gently  but  pityingly.  "But  I  don't  blame  you, 
at  least  in  this  case.  There  has  been  no  battle 
upon  the  soil  of  South  Carolina  yet — a  skirmish 
or  two,  perhaps,  but  no  battle  for  you  to  judge 
by.  I  can  not  say,"  remarks  jNIrs.  Bowles,  with 
displeasure,  "that  your  conduct,  Alice,  has  at 
all  satisfied  me  since  tliis  revolution  began.  I 
regret  to  speak  so  in  the  presence  of  another, 
but  it  is  so.  I  can  not,  I  do  not  understand  it. 
It  probably  is  your  sewing  too  closely,  the  con- 
finement in  your  school,  the  absence  of  Rutledge 
Bowles,  our  altered  fortunes.  Wait,  you  poor 
spirited  thing,  till  our  independence  is  secured." 
Her  mother  adds,  with  loving  hand  on  her  daugh- 
ter's head:  "If  Rutledge  Bowles  consents  we 
will  then  return  to  Charleston.  The  change  will 
do  both  of  us  good." 

Poor  Alice  !  Only  the  day  before,  seeing  from 
the  window  of  her  school-room  Mr.  Ellis  going 
up  the  front  walk,  apparently  on  a  visit  to  her 
mother,  in  the  impulse  of  the  moment  she  had 
run  out  and  arrested  his  steps. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ellis!"  she  said,  "how  are  you? 
And  how  is  Mrs.  Ellis  and  the  children  ?" 

"As  well  as  usual.  Miss  Alice,"  replies  Mr. 
Ellis,  somewhat  surprised  at  her  manner,  and 
perceiving  that  she  has  something  more  to  say. 

"Will  you  excuse  me,  Mr.  Ellis?"  she  .idds, 
the  color  flushing  her  cheek;  "but  mamma  is 
very  much  excited  and  nervous.  Please  say  no- 
thing to  confirm  her  in  her  delusion.  I  do  not 
exactly  mean  that.  Please  trj-  and  prepare  her 
for  any  disappointment  in  store  for  her."     And, 


in  her  aflFection  for  her  mother,  Alice  looks  at 
him  with  the  imploring  eyes  of  a  child. 

"Delusion?  Disappointment?"  Mr.  Ellis  re- 
peats the  words,  the  strange  light  kindling  in  his 
eyes.  "What  can  you  mean?"  And  seeing 
her  mother  at  the  door,  Alice  can  only  murmur 
no  explanation  at  all,  and  retreat  to  her  school- 
room, leaving  Mr.  Ellis  to  proceed  upon  his  visit. 

It  is  as  she  expected.  When  she  joins  her 
mother  a  few  hours  after,  it  is  to  find  her  flusheil 
with  fresh  certainty  and  enthusiasm  of  Confed- 
erate success,  rather  South  Carolinian  success. 

"You  are  always  croaking  so,  Alice,"  says 
Mrs.  Bowles,  with  sparkling  eyes,  "  as  almost  to 
affect  my  sjurits.  Good  Mr.  Ellis  has  spent  an 
hour  with  me  to-day.  He  confirms  my  utmost 
expectations  of  the  speedy  success  of  our  cause. 
You  can  not  tell  how  perfectly  he  has  explained 
away  all  our  late  reverses.  He  has  been  in- 
formed beyond  all  question  that  Europe  will  in- 
tervene very,  very  soon  now ;  by  next  mail  we 
will  hear.  It  is  official,  he  says.  Why,  Alice, 
you  know  what  a  devotedly  pious  man  Mr.  Ellis 
is;  and  he  told  me  that  it  was  as  impossible,  if 
we  do  our  duty,  to  defeat  the  Confederate  cause 
as  it  was  to  dethrone  the  Almighty  himself." 
And  a  vast  deal  more  to  the  same  cflFect. 

Who  can  describe  it?  Steadily  as  the  foot- 
fall of  death  to  the  dying  comes  the  news  that 
Sherman  has  swept  across  the  State  of  South 
Carolina,  is  in  possession  of  Fayetteville,  North 
Carolina.  No  glorious  Confederate  victory  in 
South  Carolina.  No  serious  fighting.  Not  the 
consolation  even  of  a  glorious  defeat. 

With  positions  singularly  reversed,  Alice 
watches  and  cares  for  Mrs.  Bowles  almost  as  a 
fond  mother  with  an  ailing  child.  Never  more 
respectful  and  reverent  to  that  mother  than  now. 
Mrs.  Bowles  has  less  and  yet  less  to  say  with 
each  passing  day,  bewildered,  exhausted. 

"Whatever  our  Heavenly  Father  thinks  best," 
she  says,  with  the  hand,  thinner  ever)-  hour,  wan- 
dering more  frequently  about  the  sunken  tem- 
ples, smoothing  continually  the  hair  whitening 
toward  the  hue  of  the  garment  of  the  saints  in 
light.  With  what  infinite  affection  does  Alice 
minister  to  her  wants,  careful  to  conceal  her  as- 
siduity, weeping  during  the  watches  of  the  night. 
For  her  mother's  sake  she  could  almost  wish  the 
Confederate  cause  to  succeed;   almost,  not  quite. 

"Would  you  not  like  ilrs.  Sorel  to  call  and  sec 
you  ?  She  would  like  to  so  much,  mamma;  and 
you  were  girls  together,  you  know,"  asks  Alice 
the  day  she  has  read  to  her  mother  of  the  fall  of 
Richmond.     Perhaps  the  moment  was  ill  chosen. 

"No,  my  dear,"  replies  Mrs.  Bowles,  decided- 
ly though  slowly,  and  with  the  trembling  fingers 
hovering  about  her  forehead.  "We  diflfer  so 
wideh'  upon  the  matter  of  deepest  interest  to  me 
on  earth.  I  love  ]Mrs.  Sorel  dearly,  but  would 
rather  not.  I  care  for  nothing  now  but  Rutledge 
Bowles  and  yourself,  for  nothing  in  all  the  world." 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


203 


And  so  rolls  iiwny  the  time  witli  us  in  Somcr- 
ville.  As  each  disaster  arrives,  we  indi;^nantly 
deny  and  scont  it  as  long  as  we  possibly  can ; 
only  it  is  pitiful,  toward  the  last,  iiow  wc  only 
expect  disastrous  news,  and  take  it  witii  scarcely 
a  perceptible  wince,  like  an  animal  used  to  beat- 
ijig,  pitiful  to  sec. 

Oh,  may  the  God  that  rules  the  eternal  here- 
after as  well  as  the  present,  deal  out  from  His 
just  bar  fitting  penalty  to  the  accursed  dema- 
gogues North  and  South  who  ikluded  the  South 
into  its  frantic  fully  of  Secession!  At  least, 
thanks  be  to  God,  that  to  each  one  of  them  will 
be  dealt  according  to  his  deeds.  Alas,  may 
there  not  be  an  unhallowed  satisfaction  even 
in  knowing  and  rejteating  the  fact,  "  Vengeance 
is  mine,  I  will  rejjay,  saith  the  Lord?"  Near- 
ly five  years  now  since  we  were  all  steeped  in 
the  gall ;  its  bitterness  is  saturating  the  very 
soul. 

However,  if.  like  a  swani])  full  of  frogs,  all 
good  Secessionists  in  Somcrville,  Dr.  Ginnis,  as 
the  biggest  of  the  band,  and  with  the  deepest 
base,  leading  the  croak,  we  arc  all  croaking  in 
inharmonious  concert,  there  is  this  refrain  in 
which  we  all  fall  back  : 

"  Live  under  Federal  rule  ?  Stay  in  the  coun- 
try if  the  Yankees  do  subjugate  it  ?  I  will  go  to 
Mexico  first,  live  in  South  America,  die  first!" 
And  so  to  the  possiliility,  in  any  case,  of  ex- 
isting as  individuals  under  that  accursed  flag 
again,  wc  all  fall  into  full  chorus,  till  earth  and 
heaven  ring  again,  "Never,  never,  never!" 

"  What  amuses  me  most  in  you  pious  people, 
Simmons,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  in  continuance  of  his 
conversation  with  that  exceedingly  dignified  and 
intoxicated  gentleman,  "  is  the  desperate  way 
you  are  trying — Barker,  Ellis,  Ginnis,  Peters;  in 
fact,  all  of  you,  good,  genuine,  j)raying  Seces- 
sionists— to  hold  on  to  Christianity." 

Never  more  carefully  dressed  in  his  life,  be- 
jeweled  until  some  new  light  is  peri)etually 
flashing,  with  every  motion,  from  hand  and  bo- 
som, essenced  until  even  the  strong  odors  of  the 
grocery  are  subjugated  thereby,  Dr.  Peel's  fine 
broadcloth  and  snowy  linen  seem  radiant  with 
his  own  exuberant  spirits.  Overflowing  with 
life  and  conviviality,  his  remarks  are  almost 
exclusively  oaths  of  as  prolific  and  varied  an 
abundance  as  the  s])arks  of  a  fire-work,  and  as 
impossible  to  reproduce  in  any  description  there- 
of. From  his  heart  of  hearts  Captain  Simmons 
regards  the  Doctor  as  by  far  the  most  magnifi- 
cent specimen  of  a  genuine  Southern  man  he 
has  ever  met ;  proud  to  be  .seen  with  him,  never 
weary  of  quoting  his  brilliant  speeches.  And 
this  is  the  very  general  opinion  of  Somerville. 
Bob  Withers  has  very  often  remarked:  "Dr. 
Peel?  Well,  yes.  By  George!  Oh,  hang  it! 
Somehow  I  can't  stand  Dr.  Peel  I"  And  there 
is  considerable  mutual  shyness  between  the  two ; 
but  nobodv  minds  Bob. 


[  "Yes,  hang  on  to  their  Christianity.  That," 
says  Dr.  Peel,  with  impressive  profanity,  ''seems 
to  be  the  main  business  of  you  pious  trained 
ones  these  ilays,  Simmons.  There  is  Mr.  Ellis, 
insisting  and  insisting  on  the  hand  of  God  in 
this  and  the  hand  of  God  in  that,  over  and 
over,  nervous  and  tremi)ling,  like  a  school-imy 
afraid  of  forgetting  liis  lesson.  But  Brotiier 
Barker's  the  man  for  my  money.  I'reach ! 
What  a  chance  a  jmlpit  and  a  Sunday  gives  a 
man,  with  a  Bible  open  before  him,  of  jiitching 
into  the  Yankees  !  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  is  tame 
to  Barker.  But  the  praying !  Twice  every  Sun- 
day ;  two  prayer-meetings  during  the  week  for 
the  success  of  the  Confederacy ;  opening  every 
public  meeting  witli  prayer;  to  say  nothing  of 
our  doings  up  tlierc  in  the  old  C.  C.  If  that 
poor  fellow  hasn't  done  his  duty  in  cursing  the 
Yankees,  I'm  mistaken.  Pcojilc  have  said  I  am 
a  jiretty  hard  swearer :  for  hard,  strong,  steady, 
desperate,  raving,  red-hot  pouring  it  into  the 
Federals  in  a  religious  fashion — blasphemy  they 
would  call  it  in  me — I  give  it  up  to  the  Parson. 
He  has  got  Christianity  and  the  Confederacy  so 
twisted  togethei'  he  can't  separate  the  two  to 
save  his  life.  Hardly  a  verse  in  your  mammy's 
I  Bible,  Simmons,  but  these  political  preachers 
have  used  to  prove  the  success  of  our  glorious 
cause  by.  We  must  not  permit  tb.e  disasters  of 
the  times  to  discourage  our  belief  in  Christian- 
ity, brethren.  Christianity  is  not  dead,  my  hear- 
ers. Barker  is  repeating,  I'm  told,  in  every  ser- 
mon and  in  every  conversation,  showing  how 
desperately  hard  it  is  to  believe  in  any  part  of 
Scripture  if  all  it  says  about  slavery  as  a  divine 
ordinance  prove  false." 

"  Now  there  is  Parson  Arthur,"  begins  Bob 
Withers,  upon  whom  any  audience  to  Dr.  Peel's 
exuberant  conversation  has  devolved,  Mr.  Wright 
being  apparently  asleep  under  his  slouched  hat, 
and  Captain  Simmons,  half-humming,  half-hic- 
cujiing,  forgetful  of  his  usual  courtesy,  what  he 
can  remember  of  a  Sabbath-school  hymn  learn- 
ed in  his  earliest  childhood. 

"Arthur!"  breaks  in  Dr.  Peel,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  tone  and  manner,  and  even  experi- 
enced Bob  Withers  opens  his  eyes  at  the  unex- 
pected and  awful  way  in  which  his  companion 
heaps  imprecations  upon  that  individual. 

Could  it  have  been  owing  to  a  visit  made  by 
]Mr.  Arthiw  to  Dr.  Peel  not  two  hours  before 
this?  The  two  men  had  scarcely  ever  met. 
Truth  to  say,  the  minister  had  often  seen  pass- 
ing along  tlie  streets,  sitting  on  counters  of 
stores  into  which  he  had  dropped  to  make  pur- 
chases, swearing  and  gesticulating  in  knots 
upon  the  sidewalk,  the  superb  Southern  gentle- 
man in  question.  Nor  did  he  withhold  a  certain 
admiration  wc  all  give  to  Healtli,  in  its  fidl  de- 
velopment in  any  thing,  from  the  noble  propor- 
tions, full  chest,  commanding  bearing  of  the 
man.     lie  had  fancied  that  so  Hercules  was 


204 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


imagined  by  the  old  pagan  poets — the  bold  pro- 
tuberant brow,  the  massy  countenance  with  its 
uureolc  of  curly  black  hair  and  beard,  and  large 
black  eyes,  open  and  fearless.  There  was  a  full 
life  in  the  man,  a  force  and  a  sway ;  a  sort  of 
Assyrian  power,  even,  in  the  costly  adornments 
of  Dr.  Peel,  which  wonderfully  arrested  the  at- 
tention of  the  minister,  interested,  almost  fas- 
cinated, while  it  repelled  him,  himself  being 
of  so  unlike  a  type.  But  never  had  they  ex- 
changed a  syllable — Mr.  Arthur  doubly  shy  of 
one  whom  he  knew  to  have  perhaps  as  tiior- 
oughly  denounced  him  on  jiolitical  grounds  as 
any  one — even  Mrs.  Smithers  or  Mrs.  Warner — 
in  Somerville. 

It  was  but  natural  in  Dr.  Peel,  then,  that  he 
should  be  surprised,  on  the  occasion  alluded  to, 
when  Mr.  Arthur,  with  scarce  a  preliminary  knock 
at  the  door  of  his  room  at  Staplcs's  Hotel,  walk- 
ed in  that  evening  after  suj)pcr. 

"  I  have  called  in  but  for  a  moment,"  remark- 
ed  the  visitor,  with  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and 
in  a  tone  and  with  a  manner  totally  unlike  his 
style  of  address  to  any  other  gentleman  in  Som- 
erville ;  "and  but  to  make  one  syllable  of  re- 
mark to  you." 

Dr.  Peel  rises  involuntarily  from  the  table  at 
which  he  is  seated  writing,  the  first  astonish- 
ment on  his  bold  face  giving  swift  place  under 
the  eye  and  bearing  of  his  visitor  to  a  manner 
singularly  like  that  worn  by  him  during  all  his 
intercourse  with  Lieutenant  Ravenel  in  the  same 
apartment. 

"You  know  me,  you  know  my  sentiments, 
j'ou  know  my  exact  position,"  says  Mr.  Arthur, 
coldly  and  slowly.  "I  have  been  informed  by 
Colonel  Brooks  of  j'ours.  The  instant  he  learn- 
ed fully  who  you  were  he  hastened  to  this  place 
at  the  peril  of  his  life — peril  of  his  life  from  both 
sides.  He  has  left  me  only  a  moment  ago.  I 
am  here  now.  I  would  have  got  to  you  to-night, 
wherever  you  were,  if  I  bad  died  for  it.  I 
know  your  case  fully,  exactly,  completely," 
continues  Mr.  Arthur,  the  tone  and  manner 
conveying  more  meaning  than  the  words.  "I 
speak  to  you  partly  on  behalf  of  Colonel  Brooks. 
I  would  have  spoken  to  you  on  my  own  behalf. 
I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  know  every  thing.  I 
am  the  only  person  in  this  region  that  does.  I 
came  to  say  to  you  I  can  not  help  your  being 
here.  I  would  give  millions  it  were  not  so  if  I 
could.  Under  all. the  circumstances,  I  can  not 
order  you  to  leave.  I  wish  I  could.  But,  un- 
derstand me  perfectly,  I  intend  keeping  the 
closest  watch  upon  you  I  possibly  can.  The  in- 
stant you  step  out  of  your — your  place,  I  will 
take  necessary  means  to  stop  you.  That  is  all. 
You  must  not  understand  that  I  do  not  in  a 
certain  sense — a  certain  sense,"  repeats  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, with  peculiar  emphasis — "  pity  you."  The 
visitor  is  evidently  touched  by  the  indescribable 
and  total  change  in  Dr.  Peel's  manner  as  he 


stands  before  him.     "That  is  all.    You  are  safe 
up  to  a  certain  point.     Take  care." 

And  the  preacher  has  left  the  room  as  sud- 
denly, yet  lis  coolly  too,  as  he  entered  it,  leaving 
Dr.  Peel,  who  has  not  even  attempted  to  speak, 
wilted  down  behind  him.  Yes,  wilted  down  is 
the  word,  whatever  rallying  of  passions  there 
may  be  afterward ;  as  if  some  gorgeous  jialm- 
tree  were  to  have  the  life  suddenly  withdrawn 
from  its  towering  height  and  tropical  foliage. 

WhctlMir  this  were  the  cause  or  not,  there  i.s 
no  telling  how  long  Dr.  Peel  may  have  contin- 
ued, on  the  occasion  of  Bob  Wiihers's  mention 
of  Mr.  Arthur,  to  have  cursed  him  ;  nor  how 
zealously  Bob,  risen  somewhat  unsteadily  to  his 
feet  to  do  so,  might  have  wielded  his  cudgels  in 
favor  of  Mr.  Arthur,  whom  never  since  the  war 
began  has  he  failed  to  defend  on  every  instance 
of  attack,  and  the  instances  are  very  many  of 
Mr.  Arthur's  being  denounced  in  his  presence : 
no  telling,  we  say,  how  long  the  altercation  ma^- 
have  proceeded,  when  a  singular  diversion  there- 
from occurs. 

"Dr.  Peel, "says  Alonzo  ^Vright,  whom  all 
had  supposed  asleep,  suddenly  rising  from  his 
seat,  pushing  back  his  slouched  hat,  which  has 
all  along  covered  his  silent  broodings  not  slum- 
bering, drawing  his  revolver,  cocking  it,  pressing 
it  against  Dr.  Peel's  broad  chest,  with  his  finger 
on  the  trigger — "Dr.  Peel,  look  here:  I  want 
to  know,  now  and  here,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Mean ?"  Dr.  Peel  is  of  a  ghastly  sallow  as 
he  asks  the  question,  not  daring  to  stir  a  hair's- 
breadth ;  even  Captain  Simmons  stops  his  maud- 
lin chant,  and,  with  Bob  Withers,  is  silent  with 
amazement,  as  much  at  the  sudden  and  peculiar 
tone  of  Mr.  Wright  as  at  his  action. 

"Mean?  In  reference  to  what?"  Dr.  Peel 
rather  gasps  than  articulately  asks  the  question, 
quailing  under  the  deadly  light  in  Mr.  Wright's 
small,  half-closed  eyes,  as  well  as  at  that  cold 
peculiar  voice. 

"In  reference  to  her,"  replies  that  individual. 

"Oh!"  It  is  but  an  exclamation  from  Dr. 
Peel's  parched  lips ;  but  it  indicates  at  least  par- 
tial relief.  "  You  forget  that  others  are  present, 
Mr.  Wright.  I  will  speak  with  you  alone  on 
that  point  with  the  greatest  pleasure,"  he  adds 
immediately. 

"  Humph !  That  is  a  fact.  I  had  forgotten 
they  were  here  with  us.  I  was  thinking.  Come 
now ;"  and,  slipping  his  revolver,  after  uncock- 
ing it,  into  its  leather  case  at  his  side,  !Mr. Wright 
vises. 

"With  pleasure.  In  one  moment,  Sir.  But 
one  word,  gentlemen,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  pausing  at 
the  door.  "You  will  oblige  me,  oblige  both  Mr. 
Wright  and  myself,  by  making  no  allusion  what- 
ever to  this  little  matter.  I  beg  your  promise  on 
your  honor  you  will  not  mention  it  to  any  one, 
gentlemen,"  adds  the  speaker,  still  more  anx- 
iously, as  some  new  thought  seems  to  pass  over 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


205 


his  mind  at  the  instant.     "Do  I  have  it?"  he 
asks,  with  eager  look  at  eacli. 

"Certainly,"  says  Bob  Withers,  with  a  good- 
humored  nod. 

"Most  assuredly  you  may  rclv  upon  my  honor," 
adds  Cai'tain  Simmons  iu  his  gcnteelest  tones, 
witii  a  reassuring  wave  of  his  left  hand,  and 
knowing  nothing  at  all  of  what  is  going  on.  "Per- 
mit me  to  entreat  you,  however,  not  to  al)andon 
the  flowing  bowl,  which  inebriates,  though,  alas! 
under  our  depressing  eircuinstauces,  it  fails  to 
cheer."' 

But  the  two  are  gone.  Nor  is  there  any  record 
of  their  conversation  thereafter.  Only  this — an 
old  family  servant  testifies  to  having  overheard 
Dr.  Peel  remark  the  next  afternoon  to  Mr. 
Wright  in  the  parlor  at  the  latter  gentleman's 
house,  a  few  moments  before  Anne  comes  in  to 
give  them,  at  her  father's  request,  a  little  mu- 
sic. The  two  gentlemen  had  arrived  from  town 
very  late  the  night  before.  Pretty  much  all 
day  they  had  spent  in  riding  out  over  the  plant- 
ation in  company.  At  dinner  the  servants,  as 
well  as  Anne,  had  remarked  that  Mr.  Wright, 
though  pale  and  exhausted  as  he  always  was 
after  an  excess,  was  in  the  highest,  wildest  spir- 
its, peculiarly  affectionate  toward  liis  daughter. 
Dr.  Peel,  on  the  other  hand,  attracted  the  at- 
tention even  of  the  dullest  of  the  servants  wait- 
ing upon  the  table.  At  times  he  would  join  in 
the  conversation,  lead  it  in  his  liveliest  manner, 
full  of  anecdote  and  lauijhter.  Again  his  coun- 
tenance would  fail,  he  would  cease  to  converse, 
seem  to  be  buried  in  deepest  thought,  sallow, 
drooping,  drinking  eagerly  and  frequently  of  the 
wine  upon  the  table,  and,  after  dinner,  upon  the 
side-board,  as  if  to  obtain  a  supply  of  animation 
whicii  had  been  suddenly  cut  oflf'  from  within. 

The  very  servants  waiting  ujjon  the  table  and 
about  the  house  that  and  the  ensuing  days  com- 
pared notes  in  the  kitchen  even  then,  as  well  as 
months  afterward,  upon  the  singularity  of  Dr. 
Peel's  manner  toward  their  young  mistress. 
Now  addressing  himself  to  her  in  his  easy,  bold, 
sparkling  way  as  of  old,  although  by  an  evident 
effort,  as  if  he  forced  himself  to  do  so  against 
his  natural  choice.  Then  glancing  at  her  again 
furtively,  fearingly,  with  an  indescribable  mix- 
ture of  admiration  and  apprehension,  not  with- 
out quick  side  looks  .is  of  deadliest  terror  at  Mr. 
Wright  himself,  playing  the  host  with  all  the 
ease  of  the  master  of  a  household  toward  a  fa- 
vored and  welcome  guest. 

But  it  was  this  which  the  old  house-servant 
Alfred  spoke  of  often  after  as  having  ovcrhcitrd 
Dr.  Peel  say  to  Mr.  "Wright,  in  evident  pursuance 
of  a  previous  conversation  : 

"You  may  rest  confident.  Sir,  that  it  will  not 
be  by  my  fault.  But  I  liave  little  hope.  I  fear, 
greatly  fear  you  are  mistaken."' 

"Stuff,  nonsense.  Doctor.  I  will  take  the 
chances  on  you  any  how,"  Alfred  testifies  to  his 


master's  having  made  reply  just  as  Anne  entered 
the  room.  "Paint  heart,  man,  never  won  fair 
lady."  And  surely  t'ather  had  never  cause  to  be 
I  prouder  of  or  more  affectionate  toward  a  daugh- 
ter than  did  Mr.  Wright  this  afternoon.  No 
wonder  he  so  openly  mani("ests  that  pride  and  af- 
fection. 

You  may  have  observed.  Miss,  or  Madam — 
you.  Sir,  certainly  have — how  the  ladies,  espe- 
cially the  younger  ones,  suddenly  and  suqiris- 
ingly  bloom  out  upon  our  planet  in  the  early 
spring.  It  may  be  some  cunning  alteration  in 
their  dress,  doing  with  subtle  skill  for  them- 
selves, in  the  way  of  adornment,  what  the  Creator 
does  tlien  for  bird  and  butterfly  and  flower.  Or 
it  may  be  that  nature,  in  clothing  at  that  season 
the  plains  with  verdure,  the  lower  animals  with 
freshness  of  skin  and  plumage,  forgets  not  to 
give  then  a  softer  light  to  the  eye,  a  sweeter 
dew  to  the  lip,  a  deeper  bloom  to  the  cheek,  a 
gentler  rijjcness  to  the  form  in  the  case  of  wo- 
man, who  is  undoubtedly  the  dearest  to  her  heart 
of  all  Dame  Nature's  numerous  family.  And,  it 
may  be,  the  eye  and  the  imagination  are  them- 
selves quickened  by  the  stirrings  of  spring  in 
us  men  also  to  view  things  in  a  brighter  light. 
Whatever  be  the  reason  therefor  the  fact  is  so. 

And  never  woman  that  May  morning  exem- 
plified it  more  than  did  Anne  Wright.  Clothed 
in  a  modest  dress  of  some  creamy  hue,  her  fair 
hair  in  abundant  curls  about  face  and  neck,  her 
complexion  of  a  softer  glow,  and  her  eyes  of  a 
deeper  blue,  she  beams  upon  her  father  and  upon 
his  guest  with  a  beauty  surpassing  any  thing 
they  had  cither  of  them  ever  before  imagined  in 
Iter.  Iler  every  motion  and  tone  even  are  mod- 
ulated to  a  livelier,  at  the  same  time  gentler, 
melody.  Who  knows  what  presentiments  con- 
nected with  their  visitor  were  not  moving  in  her 
blood  ? 

When  left  alone  together  in  the  parlor  by  Mr. 
Wright,  who  has  to  see  for  a  moment  to  the  first 
plowing  of  his  corn.  Dr.  Peel  and  Anne  know 
before  a  word  is  spoken  that  the  eventful  hour 
of  their  lives  has  arrived.  It  is  the  man  not 
the  woman  who  is  embarrassed.  Quiet  and 
modest  and  pure  as  she  is,  the  whole  thing  is 
with  her  so  much  a  matter  known  and  settled  as 
to  bring  no  new,  or  intensely  agitating,  thought 
with  it.  During  the  years  now  of  Dr.  Peel's 
visiting  at  her  father's  house,  though  he  has 
made  no  formal  proposals,  she  has  learned  per- 
fectly well  that  he  loves  her,  and  that — she  loves 
him. 

But  it  is  strange  so  bold  a  man  as  Dr.  Peel, 
one  so  sujiremcly  self-satisfied  and  independent 
in  bearing  heretofore,  should  seem  as  if  smitten 
by  an  ague.  His  face  has  grown  of  an  ashen 
yellow,  contrasting  badly  with  hair  and  eyes  so 
dark.  And  there  is  a  furtiveness  about  these 
latter,  a  trembling  about  the  large  and  bejeweled 
hands,  an  irresolution  and  timidity,  upon  which 


20G 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Anne  grounds  her  own  quietness  and  composure. 
In  fact,  the  two  seem  to  have  comjjletcly  changed 
l)laces,  only  tliere  is  somethinjjj  altogether  inde- 
scribable in  the  bearing  of  IJr.  Peel,  to  which 
even  the  words  mean  and  cowardly  may  be  giv- 
en. To  any  other  than  poor  little  Anne  he  would 
have  the  aspect  rather  of  a  condemned  criminal 
cowering  under  sentence  than  of  a  confident  lov- 
er. The  simple  fact  is,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
Dr.  Peel  seeks  to  know  his  fate  at  Anne's  4ianils 
to-day,  only  because  the  alternative  is  to  receive 
it  in  more  serious  .shape  still  at  the  hands  of  her 
father. 

"But  I  am  anxious  you  should  know — should 
not  be  deceived.  In  fact,  if  you  knew  all  I  know 
you  would — I  am  convinced  it  would  be  useless 
in  me  to  expect  your  favor." 

It  is  Dr.  Peel  who  says  it,  more  nervous  and 
miserable  even  than  when,  half  an  hour  before, 
his  conversation  with  Anne  began.  But  Anne 
only  laughs,  as  composed  as  he  is  the  reverse, 
laughs  a  joj'ous  and  confident  laugh. 

"I  am  a  poor  man,"  continues  the  lover,  and 
repeats  it  eagerly,  as  if  it  was  a  sudden  and  wel- 
come thought— ^"  a  poor  man,  a  very  poor  man, 
indeed.  You  may  have  imagined  me  to  be  rich. 
I  confess  I  have  given  you  false  impressions  on 
that  point.  I  am  extremely  poor,  Miss  Anne ; 
not  at  all  able  to  support  you  as  you  should  wish 
and  naturally  expect."  And  he  looks  at  her 
with  eager  eyes. 

Anne  laughs  more  than  ever.  "You  have  told 
rae  that  you  love  nic,"  she  says,  as  if  slie  loved 
to  repeat  the  assertion.  "What  do  j'ou  think  I 
care  about  whether  you  are  rich  or  poor?" 

Dr.  Peel  walks  the  room  like  a  baffled  man. 
Another  thought  strikes  him.  He  eagerly  seizes 
upon  a  gilded  Bible  lying  upon  the  table,  ad- 
vances upon  Anne  as  if  to  say  something,  tlien 
returns  it  in  haste  to  the  same  spot  as  eagerly, 
and  continues  to  walk  the  room  in  evident  dis- 
tress of  mind. 

"Dr. Peel,"'  says  Anne,  at  last,  a  blush  burn- 
ing over  neck  and  face,  "I  do  not  understand 
all  this.  If  you  do  not  really  love  me,  do  not 
really  wish — " 

But  Dr.  Peel  is  at  her  feet  before  the  words 
are  out  of  her  lips,  in  passionate  accents  assur- 
ing her  of  his  affection,  only  there  is  the  cower- 
ing, fearful  manner  over  it  all,  hardly  venturing 
to  look  her  in  the  eyes  even  in  his  warmest  pro- 
testations. "  No,  no,  no,  not  that,  not  that. 
Miss  Anne.  I  only  was  anxious  to  save  you 
from — not  to  deceive  you,"  he  says,  hurriedly. 
"You  will  see  what  proof  I  give  of  affection." 
And  he  goes  to  the  table,  gets  the  Bible,  and 
seats  himself  beside  her  as  with  a  desperate  calm- 
ness. "That  you  may  not  blame  me  I  am  about 
to  put  my  life  in  your  hands.  Will  you  swear 
not  to  reveal  to  any  one  what  I  tell  you?" 

Anne  laughs,  wonders  a  little,  gazes  upon  the 
anxious  face  of  her  lover,  lays  her  little  hand 


upon  the   book,  curiosity  creeping  uppermost. 
"Why,  what  in  tlie  world,"  she  begins. 

"  What  I  tell  you  will  shock  you  terribly.  If 
it  were  known  to  your  father  he  would  kill  me 
instantly,  here  in  this  room." 

Anne  gnzes  upon  the  agitated  man  with  blue 
eyes  widening  with  wonder,  curiosity,  and  deep- 
er affection  for  this  splendid  su|)i)liant.  "It 
will  not  bind  me  a  bit  more  than  1  would  have 
been,"  she  says,  at  last.  "Yes,  to  j)lease  you, 
j  I'll  swear;  and  I  do  wish  yon  and  i)a  would  let 
I  me  do  all  the  swearing."  And  she  lifts  the  book 
to  her  lips. 

"Not  even  to  your  father?"  says  Dr.  Peel. 

"  Not  to  a  living  soul.    Why,  what  on  earth  ?" 

"Miss  Anne,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  in  most  im- 
pressive manner  and  with  lower  tones,  "you 
and  your  father  have  been  greatly  mistaken  in 
me.  I  am — am  no  Secessionist  at  all ;  I  am  a 
— a — Union  man." 

Anne  sits  looking  at  him  with  wonder,  taking 
full  note  of  his,  to  her,  handsome  face  and  form  ; 
it  is  as  if  an  emperor  kneeled  at  her  feet.  "A 
Union  man !  Why,  Dr.  Peel,  who  would  have 
thought  of  it?"  troubled,  wondering,  bewildered 
for  whole  minutes. 

' ' I  knew  jou  would  reject  me  when  you  knew 
it.  And  I  swear  to  you  it  is  so,"  continues  Dr. 
Peel,  watching  her  face  with  painful  inquiry. 

"A  Union  man?  Why,  who  in  the  world! 
Oh  yes,"  Anne  adds,  rapidly,  half  in  earnest. 
"It's  a  great  pity,  a  very  great  pity.  Pa  and  I 
thought  you  the  very  best  Southern  man  we  ever 
knew.  But  then  I'll  give  you  pa's  newspapers  to 
read.  Besides,  I  could  convert  you  myself.  I 
will  tell  you  all  how  they  treated  us,  about — 
wasn't  it  about  Kansas  or  Nebraska  ?  one  or  the 
other;  and  how  they  wanted  to  free  our  negroes, 
and  what  women's  rights  people  they  are,  and 
all  their  terrible  atrocities,  and  the  way  they 
have  marched  their  soldiers  over  our  country 
burning  and  plundering.  Oh,  ever  so  much !  I 
am  certain  I  could  convert  you" — glowing  with 
beautiful  confidence — "positively  certain!" 

"Never,  Miss  Anne.  Not  even  you.  I  always 
have  been  a  Union  man.  Will  be  one  for  ever 
and  ever,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  very  slowly,  and  Anne 
sits  wondering  and  troubled,  while  her  lover 
watches  her  with  anxiety. 

"Ha!  I  never  thought  of  it.  Dr.  Warner 
there  in  Somerville,  I\Ir.  Ferguson,  Mr.  Brooks ; 
there  is  Mr.  Arthur,  too — ever  so  many  in  Som- 
erville'are  Union  people,  they  say,"  breaks  in 
Anne,  at  last,  "and  they  are  not  such  despe- 
rately bad  people  either.  Besides,"  and  the  art- 
less girl  puts  her  fair  curls  from  her  glowing 
cheeks,  and  laughs  with  delight,  "  there  is  Mrs. 
Sorel,  and  the  girl  I  love  most  in  the  world, 
Alice  Bowles.  I  know  she  is  Union ;  she  told 
me  so  herself;  or,  at  least,  she  wouldn't  say  she 
wasn't,  couldn't  make  her  do  it  when  she  was 
here  last  week.    Yes,"  added  Anne,  eagerly,  and 


INSIDE.— A  CIIllONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


207 


THE   OATH. 


with  a  blush,  "and  Alice's  own  mother,  too,  is 
a  good  Secessionist;  and  I  needn't  be  Union, 
must  I?  Please  not.  I  never  tlionght  of  that. 
Yes,"  she  added,  with  the  glad  haste  of  a  child, 
"  and  then  the  war  is  over.     Pa  himself  savs  we 


are  whipped.  Very  soon  there  won't  be  such 
names  as  Union  men  and  Secessionists  at  all, 
will  there?"  And  the  difficulty  has  passed  as 
entirely  away  beneath  her  artless  affection  as  a 
cloud  before  a  summer's  wind.     "If  you  only 


208 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


say  you  really  and  truly  love  me,"  she  adds,  with 
arcliness  and  joy. 

"  Love  you  ?  I  love  you  as  the  flowers  do  the 
light.  I  adore  you  as  you  adore  God,"  breaks 
out  Dr.  Peel,  witii  feverish  energy,  but  with  the 
cowering  eyes,  the  shrinking  and  apprehension 
of  manner  as  before.  And  again  tlie  batiled 
lover  walks  the  room,  Bible  in  hand,  in  deepest, 
most  painful  thought,  while  Anne  wonders  and 
— loves. 

"Miss  Anne,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  "I  have  not 
told  you  all  yet.  Remember  your  oath,"  and 
he  holds  up  the  Bible  in  his  hand.  "My  life  is 
in  your  hands.  Tiiere  is  another  thing  I  must 
tell  you.  If  your  father  but  guessed  it,  had  the 
faintest  suspieion  of  it,  he  would  shoot  me  down 
here  as  sure  as  you  are  sitting  there.  Had  I 
better  not  tell  you?  You  will  reject  me  with 
horror." 

Anne  looks  at  him  with  blue  eyes  opening 
again  with  wonder.  But  love  is  fast  rallying  all 
other  sentiments  in  her  heart,  for  it  is  master 
of  all  else  in  a  woman,  to  its  support.  Here  is 
this  man,  whom  yesterday  she  loved  yet  so  fear- 
ed, the  grandest  and  most  powerful  of  all  men 
she  ever  knew,  he  is  at  her  feet,  has  put  his  ut- 
most confidence  in  her,  will  hide  nothing  from 
her,  places  even  his  life  in  her  hands. 

"I  have  sworn  ;  you  need  not  fear  me."  She 
wonders  and  laughs — "Why,  what  on  earth?" 

"Miss  Anne,"  says  Dr.  Peel,  coming  near  her 
and  speaking  in  lowest  tones,  "I  am  an  alto- 
gether different  man  from  what  your  father  and 
yourself  have  supposed  me  to  be — totally  differ- 
ent in  every  sense.  I  am  not  an  officer  in  the 
service  of  the  Confederacy.  I  am,  really  and 
truly,  an  agent,  have  been  from  the  opening  of 
the  war  an  agent,  an  active  secret  agent  of — the 
Federal  Government.  I  am  one  this  moment. 
I  intend  to  be  one  so  long  as  the  Government 
wants  me.  There !  All  I  ask  is  that  you  only 
reject  me,  not  tell  your  father  or  any  one  else 
till  I  can  get  away."  And  Dr.  Peel,  with  ashen 
face  and  cowering  eyes  as  before,  watches  her 
lips  as  if  for  his  destiny. 

Poor  Anne!  The  matter  is  altogether  too 
much  for  such  lovely  curls,  and  blue  eyes,  and 
roseate  complexion,  and  lithe,  childish  form. 
She  is  bewildered,  stunned ;  passes  her  hand 
wearily  over  her  brow,  tries  to  think.  Love  be- 
stirs itself  in  her  bosom,  summons  all  the  senti- 
ments of  the  soul  to  its  aid.  Romance !  Anne 
has  long  dreamed  of  a  hero  of  romance  as  her 
true  knight ;  if  ever  woman  had  such  a  lover  she 
now  has.  There  is  a  glory  and  a  grandeur,  too, 
these  latter  days,  in  the  very  name  of  the  Feder- 
al Government;  it  is  something  very  much  to  be 
detested,  but  very  powerful  and  magnificent; 
and  all  this  vague  grandeur  now  falls  like  a  man- 
tle around  her  lover.  Pity,  too.  Yes,  if  my  fa- 
ther knew  it  he  would  lay  him  dead  on  that  floor. 
One  little  whisper  to  her  father,  and — she  knows 


him  well — there  are  the  rapid  cracks  of  a  re- 
volver, and  this  stately  I'rince  of  hers  lies  his 
length  on  that  parlor  floor  a  dead  man  in  his 
blood.  Her  lover  is  in  her  power,  and  he  delib- 
erately placed  himself  there — such  his  confidence 
in  her.  Besides,  it  strikes  her  with  wonderful 
force :  what  a  brave  man  I  To  think  of  his 
spending  yeais  in  Somerville,  being  here  now 
witii  a  sword  suspended  over  his  head — why,  it 
is  the  very  chivalry  of  romance!  Love  him? 
Sbe  never  so  dreamed  of  loving  him.  She  loves 
him  the  more  she  thinks.  Reject  him  ?  Reject 
him  now  she  knows  all  this?  It  would  be  like 
rejecting  the  whole  universe ! 

"Dr.  Peel,"  she  says  at  last,  lifting  up  her 
eyes  like  those  of  a  little  child  to  his  face,  "did 
you  say  that  you  loved  me,  loved  me  reallv  and 
truly?" 

With  singidar  contrariety  between  cowering 
eyes  and  impassioned  words.  Dr.  Peel  renews 
his  protestations  vehemently. 

"  I  will  marry  yon,"  she  says,  quietly  and 
sim])ly ;  placing,  as  she  says  it,  her  little  hand 
in  his. 

The  strong  man  is  convulsed  with  emotions 
beyond  his  control.  He  grasps  the  little,  soft 
hand,  and  lets  it  go.  He  groans  and  curses  half 
aloud.  He  actually  weeps.  Anne  notices  the 
beads  of  perspiration  start  upon  his  brow.  He 
lifts  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  lowers  it  again 
before  touching  it  with  thorn.  And  all  through 
his  agony  it  is  with  cowering  eyes.  Anne  is  as- 
tonished. There  rises  against  her  love  a  great 
amazement,  wiiich,  like  a  billow,  threatens  to 
overtop  and  bear  it  down. 

She  follows  him  with  alarmed  as  well  as  won- 
dering eyes  while  he,  again  risen  from  her  side, 
paces  the  floor  in  agonies  of  perplexity.  The 
tears  actually  trickle  unnoticed  by  him  down  his 
cheeks ;  he  grinds  his  teeth,  and  curses  under 
breath. 

"Miss  Anne,"  says  he,  at  last,  "I  have  not 
told  you  all  even  yet.  The  worst  is  to  come,  in- 
finitely the  worst.  Do  you  think  you  could  love 
me,  be  my  wife,  cleave  to  me  whoever  and  what- 
ever I  am?" — but  the  emphasis  he  puts  into  the 
words  can  not  be  written.  "Don't  answer  yet. 
Think.  Imagine  of  me  the  worst  possible  thing 
that  your  imagination  can  frame  —  the  very 
worst — the  very,  very,  very  worst.  Stoj)!  Do 
not  be  in  a  hurry.  Think!"  And  the  man 
ventures  to  look  straight  at  her,  with  the  look, 
ghastly  and  dreadful,  of  a  criminal  convicted  of 
the  foulest  of  crimes. 

"Dr.  Peel,  I  am  an  innocent  country  girl," 
says  Anne,  at  last,  even  plaintively.  "I  have 
had  no  mother  to  guide  me  since  I  was  a  little 
child.  All  you  have  told  me  this  morning  has 
astonished  and  shocked  me.  I  am  so  bewildered 
I  can  hardly  think  at  all.  But  one  thing  I  know. 
You  have  told  me  a  thousand  times  this  after- 
noon that  you  love  me  with  all  your  heart.     I 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE'  OF  SECESSION. 


20y 


can  not  undci-stand  what  you  moan  by  what  you 
now  say.  But  I  know  tliat  I  love  you  and  will 
niarrv  von.  Is  not  tlint  enough  ?"  asks  Anne, 
like  11  little  child.  "  Though  what  in  the  world 
you  mean — " 

"  Halloo,  man  !  did  ever  a  fellow  need  more 
than  that?"  It  is  Mr.  Wright,  who  breaks  iii 
upon  them,  having  oj)ened  the  door  unper- 
ceived  by  cither  in  their  excitement.  "AViiy, 
Peel,  you  look  more  as  if  you  had  seen  a  ghost. 
You  little  rascal,  Anne,  I  didn't  know  you  could 
cow  and  terrify  a  man  so,  you  little  Tartar! 
Yes,  I  heard  her,  Doctor.  All  right !  Kiss  me 
before  you  go,  Anne.  The  fact  is.  Dr.  Peel,  I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  you !  I  know  it  was  all 
sturt'  what  you  insisted  about  Aime's  not  having 
you.  It  was  because  you  had  not  asked  her — 
and  no  one  would  ever  have  suspected  you  of 
holding  back!"  And  Mr.  Wright  rattles  on  in 
the  highest  spirits. 

Before  night  Dr.  Peel,  after  an  interview  with 
Anne,  has  arranged  with  Mr.  Wright  that  the 
marriage  is  to  take  place  almost  immediately — 
for  pressing  reasons.  "Meanwhile  we  will  keep 
it  all,  of  course,  a  profound  secret.  And  I  must 
leave  the  day  of  the  wedding  with  Miss — Miss 
Anne:  most  pressing  and  important  business," 
the  lover  says. 

Dr.  Peel  may  be  a  happy  man,  but  he  seems 
to  be  singularly  cold  and  hard — with  always  the 
cowering  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"Yes,  Sir,  the  grandest  sort  of  a  spree;  and, 
as  you  well  know,  Simmons,  I  always  said  so 
from  the  start,  by  George !  This  is  the  smash 
up,  Sir,  and  a  smash  up  it  is,  ain't  it  ?" 

"Mr.  Withers,  I  have  refrained  so  far  with 
the  very  desperation  of  hope.  I  can  refrain  no 
longer.  It  is  as  you  say;  I  confess  it,  it  is," 
says  Captain  Simmons,  lugubriously  dignified. 
"  Sir,"  continues  he,  with  the  solemnity  of  a 
drunken  and  exceedingly  dilapidated  Dr.  Sam- 
uel Johnson,  "I  casually  met  that  fellow  Neely. 
In  reply  to  a  question  of  mine,  he  informed  me 
that  he  had  ceased  to  think  at  all,  that  there 
was  only  vacuum  where  once  he  had  possessed 
brains.  Neely  is  a  Yankee,  just  now  the  bluest 
Yankee  eyes  ever  beheld,  and,  being  a  Yankee, 
I  can  have  no  sentiment  in  common  with  him. 
But  such  are  my  feelings  also.  W^ords  learned 
in  earliest  childhood — I  think  I  once  sang  them 
in  Sabbath-school — 

'Something  and  system?  into  niin  hurled, 
And  now  a  nation  bursti",  and  now  a  world.' 

Something  at  least  to  that  effect  has  been  run- 
ning in  my  mind  day  and  night.  I  tell  you.  Sir, 
ours" — and  Captain  Simmons  extends  his  right 
hand,  and  says  it  oro  rotunda — "4s  the  grandest 
collapse  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Yes,  Sir, 
O 


the  suddenest,  unexpcctcdest,  most  total  and 
complete  collapse  of  which  history,  sacred  and 
jirofane,  has  any  instance." 

The  same  phrase  runs  its  rounds  among  Se- 
cessionists, with  a  sort  of  j)ride,  too,  as  if  there 
was  something  to  soothe  and  console  one's  selt 
with  in  the  very  magnificence  of  the  collai)se. 

Yes,  it  is  a  collapse ;  no  man  in  Somerville, 
no  good  Secession  lady  even,  doubts  or  denies 
that  now.  There  was  a  feeble  attempt  to  get 
up  a  jiublic  meeting  in  Somerville  to  breathe  un- 
daunted purpose  to  contiiuie  the  struggle  ;  but  a 
ghastly  affair  it  was,  very  few  present,  tremen- 
dous resolutions  presented  by  Lamum  the  editor, 
and  passed  on  the  ground  of  half  a  dozen  yeas 
and  no  nays.  Captain  Simmons,  Lamum, 
Sniithers,  and  one  or  two  vagrant  Colonels, 
make  speeches,  in  which  it  is  well  known  they 
have  no  faith  themselves  in  private  circles.  And 
Lamum  publishes  the  proceedings  of  this,  as  of 
dozens  of  exactly  similar  meetings  throughout 
the  State,  with  all  the  old  adjectives  of  enthusi- 
astic, thronging,  harmonious,  imanimous,  and 
the  weary  like,  but  not  a  soul  now  is  deceived. 
The  whole  thing  is  worn  out.  Lamum  prints 
letters  from  fierce  zealots  here  and  there,  some 
sending  in  spoons  and  butter-knives  for  the  Con- 
federate Treasury',  representing  that  our  hope  is 
in  the  fact  that  the  United  States  are  disbanding 
their  armies;  that  Europe  must  certainly  inter- 
vene now ;  that  a  just  God — Mr.  Ellis  writes  a 
series  of  articles  to  that  eftect — can  not,  will  not, 
ought  not,  must  not,  shall  not,  abandon  a  cause 
so  manifestly  His  own ;  that  if  we  will  only  hold 
out  a  little  longer,  a  foreign  war  or  something 
else  may  turn  up  for  our  deliveratice. 

People  hardly  even  read  a  line  of  all  this. 
For  four  long  years  they  have  believed  with  a 
belief  passing  all  calculation,  but  even  the  fac- 
ulty of  belief  is  wearing  out.  Nobody  has  any 
regard  even  for  Brother  Barker  these  days ; 
people  withdraw  their  children  from  his  Sab- 
bath-school, or  suffer  them  to  stay  away  unre- 
proved,  and  never  go  to  church  themselves ;  the 
very  best  members  sunk,  for  the  time,  into  a  cold- 
ness, not  to  say  apostasy,  which  language  fails 
to  express.  Haggard,  restless,  sallow,  lean 
Brother  Barker,  from  the  crown  of  his  lank  hair 
to  the  soles  of  his  sorrowful  feet,  in  counte- 
nance, apparel,  and  bearing  breathes  only  deso- 
lation and  despair.  At  times  even  he  flares  up, 
however. 

"Never,"  he  says  to  Bob  Withers,  taking  up 
again  the  refrain  of  the  general  croak — a  re- 
frain, however,  which,  vigorous  and  unanimous 
at  first,  is  fa.st  dwindling  down  to  the  rare  and 
solitary  cry  of  an  individual  here  and  there — "I, 
for  one,  will  never  live  under  Federal  despot- 
ism ;  never,  Sir,  never,  never !  I  will  go  to 
Mexico,  to  the  Sandwich  Islands  first.  Rath- 
er," says  Brother  Barker,  with  a  savage  gleam 
in  his  eyes,  "I  will  stay  here  and  agitate." 


210 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"Do  what?"  asks  Mr. Withers,  who  has  taken 
Brother  Barker  in  his  hand  and  excited  iiini  up 
thus,  exactly  as  a  child  rubs  a  match  to  see  it 
fizz  and  burn  blue,  only  for  the  melancholy  fun 
of  it.      "Do  what?" 

"  Agitate,  Sir,  agitate,  agitate !  Aid  in  get- 
ting up  another  revolution,  if  it  is  eight  years 
hence." 

Tlie  fact  is,  we  good  Secessionists  in  Somer- 
ville,  having  duly  sown  the  wind,  are  now  har- 
vesting in  our  wliirlwind,  and  the  crop  is  terrible. 

Mr.  Arthur  endeavors  to  promote  a  certain 
pity  for  them  in  his  bosom  by  summing  it  up  in 
conversation  with  grim  "Mr.  Ferguson  : 

"You  can  hardly  imagine  a  ruin  more  com- 
plete," he  says.  "Take  Colonel  Ret  Roberts  as 
an  instance.  He  has  proved  disastrously  mis- 
taken in  all  upon  which  he  staked  his  sagacity 
and  judgment.  He  endures  the  agonies  of  de- 
feat, utter  and  perpetual  defeat,  military  and 
political.  He  has  lost  all  his  property,  especial- 
ly his  negroes.  He  may  not  owe  debts  North 
himself;  multitudes  do  who  have  paid  them  to 
the  Confederacy,  and  now  have  to  pay  them 
over  again.  He  may  not  have  bought  confis- 
cated property;  midtitudes  have  invested  large- 
ly in  tliat,  and  have  to  disgorge.  Then  there  is 
his  bitter  humiliation  in  the  triumph  of  the  Un- 
ion men,  upon  whom  he  has  so  trampled  here  in 
Somerville  ;  dread  of  terrible  vengeance,  even,  at 
their  hands.  We  Union  men  had,  even  in  our 
darkest  days,  at  least  hope  left  us ;  these  have 
no  hope — none.  He  has  no  future.  You  can 
hardly  imagine  loss  to  a  man  more  complete." 

"Yes,  I  can,"  replies  Mr.  Ferguson,  who  has 
stern  satisfaction  in  the  ruin  of  his  Secession 
friends  painful  to  contemplate.  "Barker,  Mr. 
Ellis,  and  others  like  them,  have,  in  addition, 
lost  their  very  faith  in  their  religion.  In  the 
most  terrible  aflSiction  men  can  endure  they  have 
not  even  that  to  fly  to.  For  the  time,  at  least, 
their  very  belief  in  and  use  of  Christianity  is 
stunned." 

"Yes,"  replies  Mr.  Arthur,  even  with  enthu- 
siasm; "but  you  will  see.  Sir,  that  in  the  case 
of  the  truly  pious  among  the  Secessionists — and 
many  of  the  most  zealous  of  them,  in  and  out  of 
the  pulpit,  are  among  the  best  and  most  devoted 
of  Christians  in  the  world — this  defeat  of  the 
cause  in  which  they  had  invested  all  that  is 
dearest  them  on  earth,  this  most  terrible  afflic- 
tion and  trial  will,  like  every  other  chastisement 
in  the  case  of  a  child  of  God,  work  out  in  each 
of  them  a  deeper,  more  devoted  piety.  I  do  be- 
lieve, Sir,"  Edward  Arthur  adds,  with  earnest- 
ness, "this  whole  thing  will  be  as  an  ordeal 
preparing  the  whole  church  on  this  continent, 
North  and  South,  in  all  its  denominations,  for 
greater  devotion  to  God  and  power  over  men  for 
good  than  we  have  ever  yet  dreamed  men  capa- 
ble of — instruments  made  meet  by  these  very 
times,  you  see,  for  the  Master's  use." 


And  very  clearly,  indeed,  does  this  minister 
sec  it  to  be  his  duty,  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit,  to 
preach  conciliation,  moderation,  and  all  the  kiu- 
dred  Christian  virtues;  mingling  much  more 
with  men  than  for  years  past,  supjiressing  all 
l)artisan  exultation,  glowing  with  cpiiet  enthu- 
siasm instead  in  this  direction.  But  joy  in  the 
result?  Gratitude  to  God  for  it?  The  feel- 
ing is  a  much  more  quiet  one  than  he  had  im- 
agined it  would  be  in  anticipating  it  in  dark 
days,  which  seem  a  hundred  years  ago  now ;  but 
ah,  it  is  an  unsjiCakable  one! 

Yet,  as  these  eventful  days  of  May,  18C5,  sweep 
along,  a  new  hue  of  feeling  suddenly  colors  the 
wide  and  roaring  current.  Union  men  in  Som- 
erville had  dreaded  the  rise  of  a  bitter  feeling 
against  them  which  might  result  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  lives  and  property.  They  are  lost 
sight  of,  or  thought  of  only  with  respect,  in  the 
new  feeling  which  suddenly  and  angrily  flushes 
the  surface,  especially  among  the  soldiers  re- 
turning by  thousands  to  their  homes.  It  is  a 
feeling  of  bitter  wrath  against  their  own  officers, 
partly  because  of  individual  grievances  at  their 
hands,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  belief,  deep- 
seated  and  universal  among  the  army,  that  the 
officers,  with  scarce  an  exception,  have  been  en- 
gaged all  along  in  such  systematic  swindling  in 
cotton  and  commissary  stores  as  no  country  has 
ever  before  known.  The  feeling  has  been  long 
growing — growing  for  years.  Military  subordi- 
nation suddenly  thrown  off",  it  bursts  forth  with 
terrible  vehemence.  Speculators,  too,  outside  of 
the  army,  share  the  deep  hatred  of  the  soldiers. 
The  universal  cry  is,  "While  we  have  been  en- 
during privations  for  years,  suffering  and  with- 
out pay,  these  have  been  at  home  making  money. 
At  least  they  shall  share  with  us !" 

Suddenly  officers  and  speculators  find  them- 
selves in  the  very  camp  of  enemies  more  to  be 
dreaded  than  the  Federals,  and  they,  after  a 
moment  of  bewilderment,  are  flying  in  all  direc- 
tions. All  Government  property  in  reach  is  in 
some  instances  broken  into  and  plundered.  The 
stores  of  sjjeculators  share  the  same  fate.  De- 
moralized by  plunder,  the  soldiery  fall  next  upon 
any  supplies  in  reach  under  the  same  plea.  No 
house  in  Somerville  and  throughout  the  State 
safe  from  their  search  on  the  least  suspicion,  or 
none  at  all,  of  secreted  Government  supplies. 
Until,  at  last,  every  man  in  Somerville,  the  offi- 
cials most  of  all,  first  secretly  prays  for,  then 
openly  desires,  ardently  desires  the  arrival  of  the 
National  forces  as  his  only  hope. 

"I  wish  to  Heaven  they  would  come!"  Dr. 
Ginnis  does  not  hesitate  openly  to  say  the  day 
the  soldiers  disinter  twenty  sacks  of  coffee  from 
beneath  the  corn  in  his  crib.  And  yet,  only  a 
week  before,  the  portly  Doctor,  in  acknowledg- 
ing in  husky  voice  that  we  are  whipped,  that  the 
war  is  over,  had  darkly  added,  "For  the  pres- 
ent, Sir,  only  for  the  present!"  with  terrible  in- 


INSIDK.— A  t:ilUONK:Lli  OF  SECESSION. 


Ill 


tinmtions  of  glare  and  jrcsture  of  a  puenilla  war  | 
to  bo  waged  for,  at  the  least  calculatiuii,  furty 
years  to  conic. 

Even  after  the  surrender  of  Lee  Mrs.  Smith- 
crs  has  denounced  the  panic  of  tlie  hour  as  a 
mere  panic.  Sniithcrs  has  speculated,  in  some 
complicated  manner,  in  paper-money.  The  post- 
master Sniithers  is,  but  of  course  it  was  not  Gov- 
ernment money  he  used,  turning  tiic  paper  into 
specie,  and  that  into  sugar,  and  that  into  ne- 
groes. Yes,  negroes.  Tiiat  is  Smitliers's  weak- 
ness, negroes. 

"Just  as  soon  as  this  little  panic  is  over," 
Smithcrs  demonstrates  to  Iiis  wife,  "those  ne- 
groes will  bring  twice  wiiat  I  gave.  Soon  as  tlic 
war  is  over,  Araminty,  one  negro  will  bring 
morc'n  I  paid  for  all." 

Yet  the  jianic  increases  rather.  Smithcrs  has 
as  much  as  lie  can  do  to  secrete  about  his  place 
what  valuable  property  he  has.  Colonel  Ret 
Uoberts's  house  is  searched  by  the  soldiers  on 
one  side  of  him,  and  Mr.  Ncely's  on  the  other, 
and  the  soldiers  say  tlicy  are  successful,  too,  for 
Government  stores.  Even  long,  red  JNIrs.  Sniitii- 
ers  is  terrified.  ^Vith  a  tub  and  cloth  ready  on 
the  front  porch,  and  a  child  .on  the  look-out, 
whenever  a  squad  of  soUliers  happen  to  pass, 
Mrs.  Smithcrs,  dropping  every  thing  to  do  so,  is 
on  her  knees  upon  tlie  porch  scrubbing  the  floor 
for  dear  life — the  idea  being  to  impress  on  the 
minds  of  the  soldiers  the  fact  that  the  house  is 
inhabited  only  by  the  poorest  of  peojde.  Until, 
at  last,  even  Mrs.  Smithcrs  is  as  wratliful  against 
the  Federals  for  not  coming  as  she  ever  was 
against  them  for  coming  at  all. 

"I  must  do  you  the  justice  to  say  so,  Dr. 
Warner.  I  have  never  yet  had  an  intimation, 
even  in  this  dark  hftur,  of  any  desire  on  yow 
part  for  the  Federals  to  come." 

It  is  good  Mr.  Ellis  who  says  it,  seated  in  the 
Doctor's  parlor  at  this  critical  period.  Mr.  El- 
lis has  dropped  in  for  medicine  for  his  ailing 
wife,  and  in  fact  has  never  entirely  dropped  Dr. 
Warner  on  political  grounds ;  the  Doctor  is  so 
fat  and  easy  and  good-natured  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  do  so  on  any  grounds.  Very  cold  has 
been  Mr.  Ellis's  manner  to  the  Doctor;  very 
crisp  his  "Good-mornings,  Sir!"  in  passing; 
very  reticent  each  to  the  other  during  the  Doc- 
tor's professional  visits  upon  Mrs.  Ellis ;  but  both 
are  men  too  thoroughly  good  at  heart  to  lose  all 
"elective  affinity"  for  each  other. 

"Of  course,"  continues  Mr.  Ellis,  in  his  nerv- 
ous manner,  "I  regret  you  have  not  been  more 
decidedly  Southern,  Dr.  Warner.  I  disapproved 
of  Secession  as  much  as  yourself,  Sir;  it  was 
wrong.  But  when  we  of  the  South  were  actu- 
ally attacked  then  I  buried  all  that.  Even  if 
your  brotlier  or  father  is  in  the  wrong,  would  you 
not  defend  them  if  attacked  ?  My  country  right 
or  wrong,  Sir!  Your  upholding  Mr.  Arthur  in 
his  course  has  pained  me.     In  fact,  I  do  most 


heartily  disapprove" — Mr.  Ellis  always  kindles 
as  he  goes — "of  your  ltd;ewarni  support  of  the 
Confederacy.     I  think  it  wrong,  very  wrong." 

Mr.  Ellis  need  not  have  reproached  himself  at 
all  for  saying  that.  He  was  not  a  bit  to  blame. 
Mrs.  Warner  only  used  it  as  a  pretext;  she  had 
almost  fretted  herself  and  Sally,  her  two  hun- 
dred jiouuds'  weight  of  black  cook,  to  death  for 
an  opportunity  ever  since  the  surrender  of  Dick 
Taylor,  the  last  of  her  hopes,  to  say  it: 

"And  you  think  Dr.  Warner  wrong,  do  you, 
Mr.  Ellis?"  she  breaks  in,  wiiirling  like  a  gust 
round  from  her  sewing-machine  to  say  it. 
"Wrong?  Wra-ong?  Ila!  And  you  to  sit 
there  and  say  it,  after  God  himself — and  you  a 
pious  church-member  too — has  Himself  shown 
what  He  thinks  of  Secession.  Mr.  Ellis,  I've 
known  you  for  years,  respected  you  too,  and 
you  are  under  my  roof.  But  this  much  I  must 
say  to  you — you  are  crazy,  as  crazy  as  any  luna- 
tic that  ever  was  put  in  a  strait-jacket.  And 
for  you  to  believe  in  that  lying,  thieving,  mur- 
dering— hold  your  tongue.  Dr.  AVarncr  ! — re- 
treating, boasting,  cheating,  rc])udiating  Con- 
federacy, the  grandest  swindling  concern  this 
earth  ever  saw !  And  after  it  is  actually  gone 
to  pieces  too !  I  wouldn't  say  a  word.  Dr.  War- 
ner, but  it  is  more  than  I  can  stand.  You  are 
wrong — wra-ong!  A  quiet,  sensible  man  when 
it  begun.  A  quiet,  sensible #nan,  holding  your 
tongue  in  all  the  raging  folly  when  you  saw  you 
could  do  no  good,  all  through  these — these  four 
long,  long,  bad,  liittcr  years.  Standing  by  your 
minister  when  he  only  wanted  to  be  nothing  but 
a  minister  and  let  politics  alone.  Yes,  I  know 
what  you  would  say,  Mr.  Ellis.  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  confess  it,  now  I  see  my  error,  more 
shame  to  you  sticking  out  in  what  you  see  now 
is  all  wrong.  Yes,  I'm  glad  of  the  opportunity 
to  acknowledge  how  wrong  I've  been,  specially 
to  my  own  husband.  Not  that  I  expect  to  turn 
angel.  He  married  Helen  Morris,  and  Helen 
Morris  I'm  certain  I'll  be  till  I  die.  But  I  am 
sick  in  my  very  stomach  of  Secession — sick  to 
death.  Here  you've  been  telling  Dr.  Warner  it 
wasn't  the  Federals  whipped  us,  but  the  specu- 
lating and  stealing,  from  the  highest  officers 
downward.  Confessing  with  your  own  mouth 
that  the  whole  thing  was  rotten,  needed  only  a 
touch  to  make  it  crumble  of  itself  like  a  rotten, 
rotten  old  jaimpkin.  And  Dr.  Warner  is  wrong 
— wra-ong!"  intensely  sarcastic,  in  shrillest  F 
sharp. 

"I  tell  you  what,  Dr.  Warner,"  rising  sud- 
denly from  her  scat,  upsetting  her  sewing-ma- 
chine in  doing  so,  and  crossing  the  room  rapid- 
ly to  her  husband.  "I've  been  burning  to  say 
it.  I'm  glad  Mr.  Ellis  has  stirred  me  up  to  say 
it — yes,  and  to  hear  me  say  it  sits  right  there. 
I'm  proud  of  you.  Dr.  Warner.  You  do  not 
talk  out  as  much  as  I  could  wish  ;  but  all  these 
four  years  you've  had  ten  thousand  times  my 


212 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


mrffwrniiwiP] 


EECONSTBUCnON. 

sense.  Thei-e,  never  throw  it  up  to  me  I've 
said  it,  and  I'll  be  sorry  in  ten  minutes  I  told 
you ;  but  it  is  only  the  solemn  fact,  you  pro- 
voking old  thing !"  And  Mrs.  Warner  throws 
her  arms  about  that  weather-beaten  mariner's 
neck,  as  he  sits  with  the  old  di'oop  of  his  head 
lower  than  ever,  awaiting  the  blowing  out  of 
this  most  unexpected  gale,  stoops  down,  kisses 
him  upon  his  bald  forehead,  rises  again,  and 
confronts  astonished  Mr.  Ellis ;  the  canal-gates 
open  their  widest,  hysterical  but  defiant. 

And  good  ^Ir.  Ellis  finally  leaves  the  house, 
having  obtained  a  good  deal  more  medicine  than 
he  came  for. 

Mr.  Ellis,  wilted,  shriveled,  bewildered,  thrice 
in  age  what  the  past  four  years  should  have  left 
him,  looks  up,  as  he  walks  home,  to  encounter 
the  cheerful  face  and  the  hearty  good-day  of 
Mr.  Arthur  riding  by.  It  is  as  the  new  era  in 
contrast  with  the  old.  Only  the  minister  chides 
himself  for  not  having  worn  a  soberer  manner — 
nothing  he  abhors  more  than  any  even  uninten- 
tional triun^ph  over  his  old  friend — chides  him- 
self for  his  aspect,  under  the  circumstances,  of 
cheerfulness  even.  But  how  can  I  help  it  with- 
out playing  the  hypocrite?  he  asks  himself. 

But  he  rides  fast,  for  he  lias  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Staples's  returned  son  for  Mrs.  Sorel.  He  thinks 
it  must  be  from  Frank,  her  long  absent  boy,  only 
he  does  not  know  the  writing  upon  the  envelope, 
very  much  worn  and  dirtied  by  being  brought  so 
far  in  the  soldier's  knapsack.     There  is  a  singu- 


lar fear  thrilling  to  his  heart  as  from  the  touch 
of  the  letter,  taking  it  out  of  his  breast-pocket 
when  he  gets  out  of  town  to  look  at  it  again — a 
creeping  influence,  a  crawling  cold.  As  he  rides 
it  gathers  over  him,  a  fear,  a  vague  ajiprehen- 
sion,  so  that  he  almost  starts  to  hear  himself 
called  by  some  one  from  among  the  corn  in  a 
field  to  his  left. 

Drawing  in  his  horse  he  sees  it  is  a  rough 
field-hand,  who  is  hoeing  near  the  fence  —  a 
savage  of  a  negro,  with  his  hair  done  up  in  lit- 
tle tails  around  his  brow,  the  woolly  beard  in 
scant  patches  over  his  face.  Mr.  Arthur,  as 
the  negro  takes  off  his  fragment  of  a  hat,  recog- 
nizes him  as  Colonel  Juggins's  Jem. 

"  Good-mornin',  Mass  Arthur,  Jest  one  min- 
ute. Hope  all  well,  Sar.  I  want  to  see  you. 
Any  way,  I  seed  you  ridin'  along,  an'  it  comes 
upon  me  to  tell  you — "  the  boy  says,  scratching 
his  head,  shifting  his  hoe  from  hand  to  hand, 
looking  eagerly  at  Mr.  Arthur,  agitated  and  con- 
fused. "Orange  he  say,  you  hold  your  tongue, 
you  fool,  none  of  your  business.  Orange  is  a 
passon  like  you,  but  somehow —  Look  hyar. 
Mass  Arthur,  ebery  body  say  you  mighty  good 
man — " 

"I  am  in  a  hurry,  Jem." 

"One  minute,  Sar.  Case  is  dis.  Suppose  a 
man  owe  you  money,  keep  promisin',  promisin', 
promisin' — " 

"Reall}-,  Jem,  any  other  time.  I  have  a  let- 
ter for  Mrs.  Sorel  from  Frank,"  begins  Mr.  Ar- 
thur, touching  his  spur  to  his  horse ;  for  a  lead- 
ing defect  in  this  gentleman's  character  is  hurry 
and  impatience. 

"  You  better  hear  me  I"  It  is  all  the  boy  says, 
but  there  is  emphasis  so  peculiar  in  the  tones, 
as  they  fall  upon  the  rider  s  ears  rods  off,  that 
he  halts  his  restive  horse  and  rides  back. 

"You  know  that  man — Peel  is  his  name — 
Dr.  Peel?  Ha!  needn't  tell  me,  Sar;  I  kin  see 
you  know  him.  I  nuffin  to  say  of  him,  Massa, 
not  one  word  to  say,"  adds  the  negro,  with  earn- 
est deprecation.  "He  rich,  big,  splen-did  man. 
Nebber  saw  him  myself  in  my  life.  Nebber  heard 
him  say  one  word.  Nebber  spoke  one  word  to 
him  in  my  life  ;  may  Great  Massa  up  above  strike 
me  dead  in  dis  fence  corner  if  I  ebber  did  !" 

"What  about  him?"  asks  the  rider,  with 
breathless  eagerness. 

"I  hear  tell  he  goin'  to  marry  Miss  Anne 
Wright,  marry  her  dis  berry  momin' — " 

One  instant,  only  one  instant,  the  minister 
sits  on  his  horse  still  and  cold  and  pale  as  mar- 
ble; the  next  he  has  gone  at  his  horse's  best 
speed  toward  Mrs.  Sorel's  house,  but  toward  her 
house  only  because  it  is  on  the  road  to  Mr. 
Alonzo  Wright's. 

Arrived  there,  he  throws  the  halter  of  his  horse 
over  the  post,  and  hurries  in ;  it  will  take  him 
but  a  moment.  It  is  sheer  force  of  habit  which 
causes  him  thus  to  stop,  and  hurrj'  to  his  bed- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


213 


room  to  be  one  moment  there,  only  one  moment, 
upon  his  knees — if  ever  in  liis  life  surely  to-day. 
Meeting  Mrs.  Sorcl  in  the  passage,  he  places  her 
letter  in  her  hanil  and  hurries  by.  Before  he 
has  well  closed  his  room  door  he  hears  her  cry. 
That  cry,  peculiar  to  her  sex,  never  uttered  by 
them  save  when  wrung  from  the  deepest  distress, 
he  understands.  Frank  is  dead,  killed  proba- 
bly, dead  certainly.  Yet  he  stands  trenii)ling 
wyh  imjmtience  none  the  less  when  the  white- 
haired  mother,  in  the  agony  of  her  grief,  easts 
herself  u])on  his  bosom,  crying: 

"  Oh,  Frank,  Frank !  I  knew  it  was  coming, 
but  I  can  not,  can  not  bear  it.  Help  me,  oh  my 
Heavenly  Father,  helj),  help!" 

How  strange  it  seems,  how  cruel !  Mr.  Arthur 
has  no  won!  hardly  of  consolation  for  her,  does 
not  draw  her  down  beside  him  upon  her  knees 
in  even  the  briefest  prayer  in  that  terrible  hour. 
With  but  an  impassioned  word,  a  mere  syllable, 
in  fact,  of  consolation,  he  unclasps  her  aged 
arms  from  about  him,  puts  her  by  gently  but 
firmly,  and  hastens  past  with  cold,  sot  face. 

Fresh  impediment.  As  he  walks  rapidly  down 
the  front  walk,  he  meets  a  lady  coming  up  it 
with  hurried  step.  She  is  veiled,  but  he  would 
recognize  the  form  if  it  were  only  by  the  quick- 
ened beatings  of  his  own  heart.  Even  then  it 
forgets  for  one  instant  all  the  world  beside,  and 
bounds  toward  her-  with  the  truest  and  strongest 
instinct  it  is  capable  of.  And  she  recognizes 
him  in  the  same  moment,  lifts  her  head  bowed 
down  upon  her  bosom,  throws  back  her  veil,  re- 
veals her  face  all  discolored  with  weeping.  She 
starts  impulsively  toward  him  as  she  does  so,  yet 
draws  back  even  in  the  act  itself  with  freshened 
color  in  her  face. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Arthur,  such  terrible  news!"  she 
says.  "Rutlcdge,  brother  Kutledge,  my  only 
brother!  And  I  fear  it  will  kill  mamma.  I  was 
in  school.  They  gave  her  the  letter  first.  A 
soldier  brought  it.  It  will  kill  mamma.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I  rode  out  to  see  if  Mrs. 
Sorel,  to  see  if  you — " 

"In  there,  in  there — see  Mrs.  Sorel !  Not 
now,  Miss  Alice,  dear  Alice  I  Mrs.  Sorel,  Mrs. 
Sorel !"  he  interrupts  her,  in  hurried  tones ;  and 
Alice,  amazed  even  in  her  anguish,  sees  her 
lover  unfasten  bis  horse,  hurry  past  her  with 
cold,  set  face,  mount  and  ride  rapidly  off  in  the 
direction  from  Somerville.  The  ne.xt  moment 
she  and  Mrs.  Sorel  are  weeping  aloud,  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms. 

Not  two  hours  after  Mr.  Arthur  rides  from 
Mrs.  Sorel's  gate,  Mr.  Wright,  Dr.  Peel,  and 
Brother  Barker  alight  at  the  gate  of  the  first- 
named  gentleman.  Mr.  Wright  is  evidently  in- 
toxicated. Dr.  Peel  is  dressed  with  unusual  splen- 
dor, even  Brother  Barker  is  as  bright  and  fresh 
aa  his  best  black  suit  can  make  him.  But  all 
seem  hurried  and  heated.  Brother  Barker  is 
sallow  beyond  all  precedent,  which  is  saying  a 


good  deal,  for  very  ashen  and  yellow,  indeed,  has 
been  his  complexion  for  the  last  two  months. 

"  I  told  you  so  when  you  wanteil  me  to  have 
that  man  come  out  here  to-day.  Devotedly  as 
I  am  attached  to  your  daughter.  Sir,  I  tell  you 
|)lainly  I  would  rather  forego  her  hand  than  have 
such  a  fellow  ofliciate." 

It  is  Dr.  Peel  who  says  it  as  they  ride  up  to 
the  gate. 

"A  Union  man,  Sir,  a  bitter  Union  man. 
As  I  said  at  the  time,  a  regular  Federal  spy  in 
our  niiilst.  A hypocrite!"  Almost  the  en- 
tire stock  of  Dr.  Peel's  ])rofanity  interposed  be- 
tween the  two  words.  "You  did  right  to  kill 
him,  Sir,  perfectly  right.  Even  this  clergyman 
could  not  object  under  the  circumstances.  We 
will  ride  in  to-morrow  and  surrender  ourselves. 
Acquit  you!  You  will  receive  the  thanks.  Sir, 
of  every  Southern  man  in  Somerville.  Besides, 
as  a  spy,  even  the  Federals  could  not  touch  j'ou 
for  shooting  him." 

"Look  here,  Peel,"  says  Mr.  Wright,  seizing 
upon  that  gentleman's  arm  as  he  is  about  to 
open  the  gate,  steadying  himself  with  difiiculty 
as  he  does  so.  ''I  told  you  I  ought  not  to  have 
drunk  a  drop  tncre  in  town.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, you  see.  Out  of  respect  to  Anne.  Dr. 
Peel,  look  here.  I  love  my  daughter.  You,  par- 
son— what  is  it  ?  Parker  ?  Barker  ?  I  love  that 
daughter  of  mine  there  in  this  house.  I  love 
her  because  I  killed  her  mother,  you  see ;  not 
shot  her,  you  know — it  was  with  a  big  music- 
book,  I  believe.  Besides,  Anne's  a  good  daugh- 
ter; best  girl,  prettiest  girl  on  earth.  No,  you 
don't,"  w-ith  a  firmer  hold  upon  Dr.  Peel's  arm, 
who  is  endeavoring  to  open  the  gate.  "  Wait. 
Champagne?  How  much  was  it  ?  It's  my  im- 
pression you  put  something  in  it.  I  ought  not 
to  be  drunk  before  Anne  to-day,  told  you  so  five 
hundred  times  there  in  Somerville.  Humph,  if 
I  only  had  half  a  thought  you  did,  I'd' — Parson 
Arthur?  Why  didn't  you  hit  him  yourself? 
However,  I  fired  at  him  once  myself  in  the  old 
gin,  and  missed.  Did  you  -ever  hear  me  tell 
about  it,  Mr.  Parker,  Marker — what  is  your 
name?"  with  great  indignation  at  the  clergy- 
man present,  and  copious  oaths. 

"Not  now,  Mr.  Wright,"  entreated  Dr.  Peel, 
in  his  most  persuasive  manner.  "We've  got 
the  license.  Miss  Anne  is  waiting — " 

"Think  I  care  one  cent?"  interposed  Mr. 
Wright.  "Yes,  I  did  kill  that  Parson  Arthur; 
plucky  fellow,  though,  he  was.  Ought  to  have 
seen  him  that  day  down  there  at  the  old  gin. 
Kill?  Why,"  and  Mr.  Wright  took  his  revolver 
from  its  leather  case  at  his  waist,  "see  this? 
See  how  smooth  it  revolves?  All  you've  got  to 
do  is  to  cock  it — see? — point  it  at  your  man, 
one  little,  little  touch  on  this  trigger,  and — down 
he  goes.  Arthur  ain't  the  first  man  I've  killed, 
by  a  long  sight ;  nor  won't  be  the  last.  Why, 
gentlemen,"  continued  Mr.  Wright,  with  an  air 


214 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


of  perfect  sincerity,  his  eyes  half  closing  as  he  for  some  distinct  something — a  button,  a  breast- 
looks  at  each  in  turn,  and  his  voice  in  tiiat  i)e-  pin,  somctliing  of  tlie  sort  on  him." 
culiar  low  key  which  can  not  be  described—"  if  |  And  so  they  turn  to  go.  Dr.  Peel  foaming  witli 
either  of  you  were  to  give  me  cause,  lialf  a  impatience,  but  afraid  to  cross  the  man,  Brother 
cause,  a  shadow  of  a  reason  for  it,  I'd  kill  you  Barker  wishing  tliat  he  had  been  on  some  distant 
here  and  now — kill  both  of  you  with  the  great-  api)ointmcnt  instead  of  in  Somerville  when  tiiey 
est  satisfaction,  ratiier  do  it  than  not.  You  see  came  for  iiim  that  morning.  Nor  does  his  dis- 
I  like  such   things.     Ever  since  tiiat  day  I  up  may  decrease  when  Mr.  Wright  suddenly  turns 


with  the  big  music-book — you  sec  I  had  been 
drinking — " 

"Mr.  Wright,"  interposes  Dr.  Peel.  "We 
have  the  license ;  here  is  the  clergyman.  Miss 
Anne  sees  us.  I  ask  you  as  a  father  if  you 
tliink  it  respectful  to  Miss  Anne  Wright — " 

"Put  it  on  that  ground,  do  you?     Well,  let 


ujion  him  when  they  are  on  the  steps  of  the 
portico.  , 

"What  was  that  you  said  at  the  time,  parson  ? 
For  Heaven's  sake  let  me  get  down  and  see  if  he 
is  killed,  wasn't  it?  I  says,  I've  brouglit  you 
out  to  marry  Anne  and  I'll  kill  you  too  if  you 
— ves  that  was  it — kill  vou  too,  if  vou  try  it. 


us  go  m.  Only,  wa'n't  it  over  in  a  flash  ?"  and  ]  You  pucker  up  your  face  and  say,  rolling  up 
he  confronts  his  comjianions  as  they  proceed  up  i  your  eyes,  as  if  it  was  a  grace  at  table,  It  is  the 
the  walk  toward  the  front -door.  "Here  we  !  awful  judgment  on  him  of  God.  It's  very  curi- 
were  riding  along  talking  about — what  were  we  '  ous,"  adds  Mr.  Wright,  as  they  enter  the  door — 
talking  about? — never  mind.  All  on  a  sudden  [  "in  these  difticulties  I  am  like  a  spectator  look- 
down  upon  us  comes  that  fellow  Arthur — rides  ing  on  ;  know  all  that  is  done,  remember  every 
well,  rode  well,  I  mean,  didn't  he  ?     WHiat  was    thing  that  is  said  j)crfectly  well,  a  kind  of  two  of 


he  saying?  Oh  yes,  Colonel  Wright,  Colonel 
Wright,  one  word  witli  you.  Colonel  Wright, 
wasn't  that  it  ?  Y'ou  says,  PeeL  what  was  it  ? 
Oh  yes,  Mr.  Wright,  you  say,  jronder  comes  a 
man  I  know  to  be  a  Yankee,  a  Federal  spy,  and 
my  mortal  foe,  shoot  him  down !  What  did  you 
turn  so  yellow  for,  Peel?  your  lips  were  white, 
screamed  like  a  wild  cat  you  did,  didn't  he,  Mr. 
Larker,  Parker ;  what" — a  very  large  oath- 


us  in  the  thing  at  the  same  moment,  a  cool  one 
and  a  hot  one,  and  which  is  me  and  which  is  the 
devil  I  never  can  tell." 

Only  all  this  is  pale  and  colorless  delineation 
of  Mr.  Wright's  words,  the  crimson  and  fervor 
of  his  profanity  being  omitted.  As  to  the  facts, 
they  were  as  he  stated. 

And  the  minister  lies  bleeding,  apparently 
dead,  in  the  road  where  he  fell.     His  horse, 


the  reason  I  can't  kcej)  your  name  in  my  mind?  startled  by  the  shots  and  his  rider's  fall,  had 
Never  mind.  What  was  it  ?  I  said.  Let's  hear  fled  from  the  spot  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  had 
what  the  man  has  to  say.  Peel.  Then  you  whips  then  stopped  to  graze,  and  so  had  by  nightfall 
out  vour  six-shooter  and  fired.  Missed,  of  course,  found  his  way  to  his  stable-door,  carrying  frcsli 
Fellow  kept  right  on  steady  as  steel,  didn't  wince  alarm  for  his  owner  to  a  household  already  suf- 
or  draw  rein.     What  did  he  say?     For  God's  ,  ficiently  distressed. 


sake,  Colonel  W^right,  one  word  with  you ! 
Then  over  in  a  flash,  wa'n't  it?  I  had  out  my 
revolver  and  fired.  I  assure  you,  gentlemen;" 
and  Mr.  Wright  brims  the  assurance  with  oaths. 
"It  was  like  that  day  with  my  wife.  I  didn't 
even  know  I  laid  hold,  or  intended  to  touch  that 
music-hook — you  see  she  was  playing  on  the 
piano  at  the  time ;  it  was  over  before  I  knew  it. 
Something  in  here,"  says  Mr.  Wright,  gravely, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  his  bosom,  "not  myself. 
It  wasn't  there  the  moment  before.  It  is  gone 
the  instant  the  thing  is  done.  What  you  would 
call  the  devil,  parson;  wouldn't  you?  Sing 
out." 

"Really,  my  dear  Sir,  I — it  is  very  difficult — " 


Mrs.  Sorcl  had  gone  to  town  with  Alice  hours 
before  and  has  not  returned.  The  servants, 
greatly  afllicted  by  the  loss  of  their  "Mass 
Frank,"  doubly  afflicted  by  this  new  calamit}- — 
for  they  are  ail  greatly  attached  to  Mr.  Arthur — 
hasten  to  inform  Rohby  in  the  house  of  the  ar- 
rival of  the  riderless  steed.  A  few  hours  before 
that  sedate  little  boy  was  on.ly  "  Robby,"  now  he 
is  "Mass  Robby"  with  the  seiTants.  His  mo- 
ther, too,  has  clasped  him  to  her  bosom,  wept 
over  him,  and  kissed  him  as  her  only  child.  In 
spite  of  his  anguish  Robby  is  not  without  a  new 
sense  of  imi)ortanee.  Sorely  afflicted  in  regard 
to  Mr.  Arthur,  to  whom  he  is  ardently  attached, 
with  tears  streaming  afresh  down  his  cheeks,  but 
Brother  Barker  begins,  smiling  feebly,  rubbing  '  with  the  gravity  of  the  oldest  of  men,  he  gives 
his  hands  together,  glancing  for  aid  to  Dr.  Peel.  '  charge  to  the  household  to  be  careful,  generally, 
"Think  I  may  kill  you?  you  are  a  coward,  during  his  absence,  and  rides  in  through  the 
Arthur  wasn't.  Riding  steadily  up.  One  word,  darkening  twilight  to  Somerville,  meditating 
Colonel  Wright,  for  God's  sake,  one  word !  his  soberly  and  with  a  sense  of  having  attained, 
right  hand  up  that  way.  Then  I  fired  for  his  during  the  last  few  hours,  years  of  growth, 
left  breast  button,  last  of  the  row,  and — down  he  Entering  at  last  the  house  of  ISIrs.  Bowles,  so 
went.  Never,"  added  Mr.  W^right,  impressive-  well  known  yet  so  long  unvisited,^  he  steals 
ly,  "whatever  you  do,  gentlemen,  never  fire  quietly,  as  is  his  wont  every  where,  into  her 
merely  at  a  man.     Always  aim — I  always  do —  !  chamber.     But  even  Robby's  sobriety  of  soul  is 


INSIDE.— A  CIIHONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


215 


startled  at  the  Jendly  hue  iij)on  the  face  of  that 
lady,  lyiiij^,  a  mere  filiadow  of  her  forincr  self, 
]>artl_v  in  tlie  arms  of  his  mother,  who  t^its  iii>on 
the  bed — all  the  alieiiaiiuii  of  the  last  few  yeai-s 
utterly  gone,  and  the  two  friends  more  to  each 
^ther  now  by  far  tiian  ever  before;  wliile  Alice 
comes  and  goes  silently  and  gently,  not  without 
a  j)leasure  in  the  reconciliation  of  tlie  hour,  even 
in  her  decjtest  sorrow  for  her  dead  brother,  and 
for  her  mother  fast  following  him.  Common 
affliction  has  melted  every  coldness  between 
these  two,  made  keenly  alive,  l^and  during 
their  real's  of  separation,  to  all  they  really  arc  to 
each  other.  It  touches  Alice  to  observe  how,  in 
a  mutual  manner  and  tone,  these  two  sorrow- 
smitten  and  white-haired  fiiends  are  more  to 
each  other,  like  the  schoolmates  of  years  ago, 
than  grown  pei-sons.  , 

"Read  it  yet  once  more,  Eliza  dear;  just 
once  more,  ]ileasc.  Not  from  the  beginning — 
that  passage  about  his  being  a  high-toned  gen- 
tleman," Mrs.  Bowles  is  saying  as  Robby  steals 
quietly  in. 

"'No  officer  in  the  army  could  have  been 
more  ardently  beloved — '  No,  that  is  the  wrong 
jiaragraph,"  Mrs.  Sorel  says,  searching  for  the 
passage  in  the  soiled  and  crumpled  i)aper  in  her 
hand,  wet  with  tears,  and  already  known  by 
heart,  every  line  of  it,  to  these  three.  "Yes, 
here  it  is,"  continues  Mrs.  Sorel,  at  last,  read- 
ing from  the  letter:  "  'It  lias  been  my  lot  to  be 
tlirown  with  many  officers  from  the  State  of  our 
common  birth,  very  many  of  all  grades  during 
the  war;  but  among  them  all,  I  am  free  to  say 
that  Captain  Rutledge  Bowles  stood  pre-eminent 
as  a  high-toned  gentleman  and  most  gallant  sol- 
dier, it  was  only  after  Colonel  Carrington  had 
frequently  expressed  his  hearty  approval  of  the 
killing  of  Lincoln  that  Ca]ttain  Bowles  spoke  at 
all  upon  the  subject ;  nor  then,  until  Colonel 
Carrington  had  pressed  Captain  Bowles  for  an 
utterance  of  his  ojiinion.  The  very  strong  lan- 
guage used  by  your  lamented  son  in  detestation 
of  the  crime  in  question  was  but  characteristic 
of  the  man,  as  I  have  already  remarked  in  full. 
Nor  has  Colonel  Carrington  even  the  excuse  of 
intoxication,  which  the  delirium  of  his  language 
and  conduct  on  the  occasion  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate. Some  excuse  may  be  found  for  him  who  { 
slew  your  son  in  the  intensity  of  chagrin  and  I 
bitterness  attending  the  fall  of  Charleston.  But, 
in  the  interest  of  truth  it  should  be  stated,  so  far 
as  any  exasperation  on  this  ground  should  have 
afTected  any  one,  that  individual  might  have  bet- 
ter plead  it  in  the  case- of  Captain  Bowles,  he 
being  a  South  Carolinian  by  birth,  than  Colonel 
C,  who  is  well  known  to  be  a  native  of  Con- 
necticut.    And  this  is  the  general  rule — '  " 

"That  will  do,  Eliza,"  and  the  pale  sufferei; 
places  her  thin  hand  upon  the  paper.  "  I  thank 
God  for  it,  Lizzie  dear.  I  did  hope,  even  pray, 
that  Rutledge  Bowles  might   fight,  even   if  he 


must  full  there,  upon  some  great  field  of  victory 
within  Soutli  Carolina.  My  heavenly  Father 
has  granted  my  prayer,  though  not  as  1  thought. 
lie  has  fallen  on  that  soil — fallen  in  even  a  no- 
bler cause — fallen  in  detestation  and  denuncia- 
tion of  a  dastardly  crime  ;  the  nobler  in  him  to 
denounce  it,  to  die  for  denouncing  it,  as  it  was 
a  crime  against  the  man  in  all  the  world  whom 
we  both — Rutledge  Bowles  and  myself  I  mean — 
hold  in  greatest  dislike.  An  inscrutable  Provi- 
dence, Lizzie" — and  here  the  wasted  hand  wan- 
ders feebly  about  the  sunken  temples  —  "has 
been  against  the  South.  We  won't  discuss  it, 
dear.  I  have  tried  to  understand  it ;  tried,  and 
tried.  If  you  only  knew,  Eliza,"  said  the  grief- 
struck  woman,  with  earnest  eyes  upon  the  friend 
on  whose  bosom  she  leaned,  "how  hunt  I've 
tried !  I've  laid  awake  long  nights  through, 
when  Alice  here  sle])t  sweetly  by  my  side,  trying 
to  make  it  out — trying  so  very,  veiy  hard.  I 
have  gone  over  the  whole  Bible  in  search  for 
light,  Lizzie.  I  have  wejit  and  prayed  so! 
Don't  be  ofi'cnded  with  me  ;  we  won't  sav  anv 
tiling  more  about  it ;  but  I  can  not  see  how 
South  Carolina  was  wrong.  I  know  God  rules, 
dear ;  does  nothing  but  what  is  right ;  but  wc 
ou(//u  to  have  succeeded,  Lizzie.  I  always  feel 
that — " 

"  Mamma,  please,  you  know  what  Dr.  War- 
ner— "  begins  Alice,  who  sits  beside  her  mother, 
with  the  humble  pleading  of  a  little  child,  and 
moistening  the  thin  hand  clasped  in  her  own 
with  tears. 

"  I  was  only  going  to  speak  about  the  terrible 
fiill  of  Charleston,  and  about  those  awful  scenes 
in  Columbia— but  you  are  right.  Only  I  try 
and  try" — the  hand  taken  from  her  daughter's 
grasp,  and  touching  the  forehead  here  and  there 
with  fragile  fingers.  "I  do  not,  I  can  not  un- 
derstand— " 

"But  you  were  speaking  of  Rutledge,  Alice," 
says  Mrs.  Sorel,  mindful  of  tlie  daughter's  eyes, 
apjjcaling  to  her  through  tears,  and  in  gentlest 
tones. 

"Yes,  Lizzie,  I  know,  and  you  know  too, 
how  foolish  I  have  always  been  about  Rutledge 
Bowles — except  Alice  here,  all  I  had  on  earth; 
but  I  think  even  this  moment  more  about  South 
Carolina  and  its  defeat  and  all  than  I  do  about 
him.  You  know  how  we  have  both  been  trained 
to  that,  Lizzie  ;  it  is  part  of  my — my  very  heart ; 
I  can  not  help  it.  That  Abolitionists  should 
actually  conquer  us!"  and  again  the  frail  hand 
goes  to  the  brow,  unspeakable  bewilderment  in 
her  eyes. 

"But  I  too  have  lost  my  son,  Alice  —  my 
Frank.  Let  me  read  you  the  letter  again.'" 
And  in  quiet  tones,  but  with  the  tears  trickling 
down  her  cheeks  and  glittering  upon  the  white 
sheet  as  she  reads,  Mrs.  Sorel  again  goes  over 
the  few  words  of  her  letter,  brought  in  the  same 
package  with  her  friend's,  telling  of  the  death  of 


216 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


Iier  boy,  after  long  sickness,. in  the  hospital  at 
Richmond.  The  letter  is  roughly  written  by  a 
comrade,  many  words  misspelled,  but  all  to  the 
effect  that  it  was  the  death  of  a  Christian  youth 
fully  prepared  to  die,  his  last  breath  filled  with 
messages  of  love  to  his  motiier  and  Robby,  and 
confident  expectations  of  reunion  with  them  in  a 
world  where  war  is  forever  unknown.  Very 
peaceful  and  quiet  his  death,  breathing  quiet 
and  peace  even  through  the  first  anguish  of  the 
bereaved  mother. 

"  And  there  is  this  too,  Eliza,  about  Rutledge 
Bowles," says  the  pallid  sufferer,  returning  im- 
mediately, though  after  deepest  sympathy  witli 
her  friend,  to  her  own  sorrow.  "Alice  will  tell 
you  I  told  lier,  when  I  recovered  from  my  faint- 
ing fit  it  was  my  first  tliought,  as  it  is  now  my 
consolation.  It  is  better  he  should  have  died, 
Lizzie,  now  that  South  Carolina  is  defeated. 
Rutledge  Bowles  could  not  have  endured  to  see 
it,  dear.  To  live  under  the  rule  of  Abolitionists 
would  have  been  to  him  a  living  agony  and  hu- 
miliation worse  than  death.  It  is  better  as  it  is. 
Though  why  our  heavenly  Father  should  have 
permitted — "  And  as  the  wasted  fingers  seek 
the  forehead,  Robby  can  no  longer  keep  silence. 
He  has  stolen  silently  by  his  mother's  side,  she 
aware  of  his  presence  there,  but  too  absorbed  in 
the  sorrow  of  her  friend  and  hei-self  for  her  to 
notice  him. 

"Oh,  mother,  mother!"  says  Robby,  the  tears 
beginning  to  flow  afresh  at  tiie  sound  of  his  own 
voice,  "Mr.  Arthur,  Mr.  Arthur!"  and  breaks 
down. 

Alice  is  seated  by  the  bed,  gently  drawing  out 
through  her  hands  the  long  white  tresses  of  her 
mother,  too  full  of  sorrow  to  speak,  but  at  the 
name  she  turns  so  sharply  around  even  her  mo- 
ther can  not  but  remark  it,  her  lips  parted,  every 
vestige  of  color  gone  from  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  mother,  Mr.  Arthur  is  killed!  His 
horse — "  But  Robby  can  get  no  farther,  for  Alice 
has  fallen  forward  upon  the  bosom  of  Mrs.  Soi'el 
in  a  faint,  and  all  is  confusion. 

An  hour  passes  away  before,  Robby  having 
told  the  whole  story  so  far  as  he  knows  it,  any 
tranquillity  is  restored.  Filled  with  the  most 
painful  apprehensions,  Mrs.  Sorel,  nevertheless, 
endeavors  to  reassure  herself,  as  well  as  her  com- 
panions, by  all  manner  of  hopeful  conjectures. 
Mr.  Arthur  may  have  merely  alighted  somewhere, 
leaving  his  horse  standing,  and  it  may  have  left 
him  ;  or,  he  may  have  been  thrown,  though  not 
seriously  hurt.  But  she  herself  and  Alice  too, 
hovering  about  her  mother's  couch  pale,  cold, 
and  silent,  can  not  but  recall  the  singular  man- 
ner in  which  Mr.  Arthur  parted  from  them  that 
morning.  All  through  their  deep  grief  they  have 
both  felt  vague  apprehensions,  even  painful  anx- 
ieties, on  his  behalf.  Not  on  political  grounds, 
for,  as  they  both  well  know,  thei-e  are  no  men  so 
safe  just  now  as  Union  men,  even  if  Mr,  Arthur's 


course  had  not  been  so  quiet  and  without  positive 
ofl^cnse,  as,  in  spite  of  liis  thoroughly  known  loy- 
alty to  the  Union,  to  leave  him  without  one  em- 
bittered enemy  in  the  world. 

But  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  Alice  also,  can  not  help, 
even  in  that  anxious  hour,  remarking  the  silence 
and,  if  possil)lc,  deadlier  pallor  into  which  Mrs. 
Bowles  has  fallen. 

"  Blind,  blind,  blind,"  she  says  it  more  to  her- 
self tlian  to  Dr.  Warner,  now  with  her,  Mrs. 
Sorel  and  Alice  having  gone  for  the  moment  out 
of  the  roon\^  "You  know  it  all.  Dr.  "Warner, 
jierhaps  have  known  it  for  months,  and  for  mc, 
her  own  mother,  never  to  have  more  than  feared 
it." 

"Feared  it,  Madam  ?"  says  Dr.  Warner,  with 
some  indignation.  "  As  to  knowing  it,  there  are 
few  besides  yourself  but  knew  Mr.  Arthur  was  at- 
tached to  your  daughter,  has  been  devotedly  at- 
tached, I  dare  say  for  years.  A  good  many  of 
us  have  fancied  it  exceedingly  likely  his  affection 
was  reci])rocated." 

"  He  never  whispered  such  a  thing.  Alice 
never  even  hinted  any  thing  of  it  to  me,"  Mrs. 
Bowles  says,  feebly,  and  in  a  bewildered  man- 
ner. 

"Because  he  knew  the  aversion  for  him  you, 
and  her  brother  too,  might  have.  Madam,"  re- 
marks Dr,  Warner,  warmly.  "He  did  not  even 
know  how  she  herself  might  regard  him,  being, 
as  he  knew  she  knew  him  to  be,  a  thorough- 
going Union  man.  He  was  too  honorable.  Mad- 
am, to  endeavor  to  win  her  affections  against 
j'our  wishes — too  proud  to  desire,  even,  to  intrude 
where  he  was  not  heartily  welcome.  Had  thing.s 
continued  as  they  were,  in  my  opinion,  though 
most  devotedly  attached  to  Alice,  he  never  would 
have  taken  a  step  as  long  as  the  world  lasted." 

"That  so  many  terrible  blows  should  fall  upon 
me  at  once,"  moans  the  invalid,  feebly  lifting  her 
hand  to  her  forehead. 

"You  are  in  a  weak  state  of  health.  Madam," 
interrupts  her  physician,  with  a  good  deal  of 
firmness  for  him,  but  professional  and  as  with  a 
patient,  "and  we  ought  not  to  converse  at  all. 
Only  I  must  say  this.  For  all  we  know,  Mr. 
Arthur  is,  at  this  moment,  lying  dead,  either 
thrown,  from  his  horse  or  by  the  hand  of  an  as- 
sassin, God  forbid  !  But,  if  he  lives,  there  is  no 
man  living  I  would  so  well  be  pleased  to  see  'Ria, 
if  she  were  old  enough,  the  wife  of  A  gentle- 
man of  spotless  character,  of  good  talents,  of 
sincere  piety  —  one  who  has  proved  himself, 
during  all  these  years  of  madness,  true  as  steel, 
through  great  and  unceasing  pressure,  to  what 
he  knew  was  right ;  not  a  partisan  in  it  either, 
calm,  mild — I  declare.  Madam,"  says  Dr.  War- 
ner, with  more  spirit  than  he  ever  dared  exhibit 
to  his  wife,  "I  am  astonished  at  you."  And 
he  rubs  his  bald  head  with  the  palm  of  his  left 
hand  impatiently.  But  Mrs.  Bowles  only  lies 
with  her  eyes  closed,  pallid,  silent. 


INSIDE.— A  CIIKONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


217 


OH,  MOTllKH,  Mb.  AUriiru   I.S    KILUCI)!" 


"There  is  one  thinrr,  perhaps,  I  ought  not  to 
mention,"  says  Dr.  Warner,  afrer  a  very  long 
pause,  and  much  ruhbinp  of  his  brow.  "Un- 
der these  peculiar  circumstances,  however,  and 
it  is  of  a  nature  which  will  make  it  sacred  with 


you.  Mr.  Ferpuson  might  not  like  it— might  be 
very  angry  with  mc,"  continues  ho,  with  a  very 
plain  and  frightened  recollection  of  the  charac- 
ter of  that  person ;  "  but  I  know  the  scci-et  is  safe 
with  you.     You  will  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Bowles,  I 


218 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


speak  only  this  once,  do  it  to  relieve  vour  mind. 
You  are  not  as  rich — pardon  me — Miss  Alice 
will  not  inherit — oh,  forgive  me — "  in  great  con- 
fusion. 

"You  are  not  intending  to  remind  me  of  our 
poverty."  Feeble  as  she  is,  not  more  than  barely 
able  to  speak  the  words,  the  pale  sutVerer  abashes 
Dr.  Warner  greatly  by  the  silent  dignity  of  her 
eyes  fastened  with  sur])rise  on  his. 

"  You  are  right,  pardon  me.  As  my  wife  says, 
I  always  am  doing  something  I  ought  not,"  re- 
marks the  culprit,  feeling  himself  a  huge  culjjrit 
to  the  extremities  of  his  disarranged  neckercliief 
in  every  button-hole  lacking  its  button,  and  with 
his  head  sunk  into  its  shower-bath  drooj).  ''I 
only  meant  to  say  that  ^Ir.  Ferguson  has  placed 
a  sum  of  money,  a  very  large  sum  indeed,  he 
has  no  child  or  relative,  you  observe — nothing 
else  on  earth  to  do  with  it,"  the  Doctor  adds  with 
a  deprecatory  gesture,  and  by  way  of  a])ol()gy  for 
Mr.  Ferguson,  "ont  at  interest  in  Mr.  Arthur's 
name.  lie  intends  the  pa])ers  as  a  wedding  gift 
to  him  on, his  marriage.  Besides,  he  has  made 
a  will—" 

"Dr.  Warner!"  Notliing  but  that,  with  its 
accompanying  look,  but  it  cuts  the  physician  to 
the  bone.  There  is  long  silence,  during  which 
lie  looks  at  his  watch  and  administers  a  sooth- 
ing powder,  rubbing  his  head  with  vexation,  but 
having  notliing  more  to  add. 

"I  am  bewildered,  exhausted,  can  not  sleep 
as  you  all  would  have  mo  do,"  murmurs  Mrs. 
IJowles  at  last;  "but  I  am  still  in  my  right 
mind.  And  I  never  can  consent  that  my  daugh- 
ter should  marry,  though  he  had  every  other 
quality  under  heaven,  an — an  Abolitionist.  Tliat 
Alice  sliould  have  an  aifi'ction  for  one  kills  me." 

No  more  than  that;  but  oh  the  tone  in  which 
it  is  said  I  Mrs.  Bowles  closes  her  eyes  and  lies 
as  pale  and  cold  as  marble,  as  much  beyond  Dr. 
Warner's  reach  as  if  she  were  in  Heaven. 

He  feels  it,  gives  over  rubbing  his  forehead, 
and  steps  quietly  out  of  the  room,  as  a  wrecked 
mariner  might  crawl  ashore  out  of  the  waves, 
the  storm-beaten  condition  of  the  man  altogeth- 
er indescribable. 

He  finds  Alice  reclining  on  the  sofa  of  the 
next  room,  whicli  is  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Sorel  sit- 
ting on  a  low  stool  at  her  head.  Alice  has 
been,  is  weeping,  and  at  a  glance  Dr.  Warner 
sees  that  these  two,  at  least,  are  in  fullest  sym- 
pathy with  each  other. 

Yes,  he  thinks  IMrs.  Bowles  will  sleep,  per- 
haps, if  left  undisturbed.  Nothing  from  Robby 
yet?  For  Robby  has  gone  back  to  send  the 
servants  out  in  every  direction  to  inquire — a 
labor  of  love  with  them — in  regard  to  jMr.  Ar- 
thur. Robby  has  not  returned,  has  not  had 
time  as  yet. 

"A  dozen  of  us  will  be  off  as  soon  as  it  is 
day,"  Dr.  Warner  remarks,  and  proceeds  to 
prove  that  there  is  not  the  least  possibility  of 


any  harm  having  befallen  their  friend.  "  Heav- 
en lias  i)rcssing  need  of  just  such  u  man  in  the 
new  times  before  us,  Mrs.  Sorcl,"  is  the  some- 
what inconclusive  argument,  among  others, 
which  he  urges,  amidst  much  warm  eulogium 
of  Mr.  Arthur.  "He  has  been  a  living,  jiow- 
erful  contrast  to  that  man  Barker,  a  sort  of 
peaceful  antidote  to  his  virulent  poison  in  Som- 
erville  for  years  now. "  Dr.  Warner  dwells  much 
upon  that.  "There  is  no  man  living  to  whom 
I  would  as  jiroudly  and  gladly  give  our  'Ria  as 
a  wife,"  the  Doctor  adds  for  Alice's  especial 
benefit,  droojjing  his  head  the  instant  after  in 
sclf-rei)roacii  fur  having  spoken  the  words. 

Meanwhile  Alice  has  stolen  once  or  twice 
into  her  mother's  room,  and  pronounces  her  to 
be  resting  quietly.  She  has  just  j>ersuaded  Mrs. 
Sorcl  to  go  to  her  room  and  lie  down,  when  a 
step  is  heard  u])on  the  front  porch  and  a  knock 
follows  at  tlie  door.  With  stealthy  stcj',  lest 
he  should  disturb  the  invalid,  yet  with  beating 
heart.  Dr.  Warner  hastens  to  the  door.  In 
deepest  anxiety  Alice  and  Mrs.  Sorcl  hear  him 
greeted  in  a  voice  they  do  not  recognize.  There 
is  a  low  but  rapid  conversation  ujion  the  front 
porch.  Then  Dr.  Warner  introduces  no  less  a 
person  than  Mr.  Bob  Withers  into  the  room, 
says  that  gentleman  will  cxj)lain,  and  is  him- 
self gone,  gone  in  such  hurry  as  to  forget  his 
hat,  and  then,  still  more  wonderful,  his  saddle- 
bags, after  each  of  which  he  has  to  return. 

"  You  will  forgive  my  intrusion,  ladies,  though 
I  believe  it  is  not  yet  nine  o'clock,"  says  Mr. 
Wither.s,  declining  a  chair.  "Thankyou,  no,  I 
can  st.ay  but  a  moment.  The  fact  is,  I  called 
at  the  Doctor's  house  and  was  told  he  was  here. 
By-the-by,  I  should  have  told  him  to  return  by 
way  of  his  own  house.  I  fear  his  lady  is  in 
strong  hysterics.  Tiie  instant  I  told  her  iMr. 
Arthur  was  shot — I  beg  pardon,"  adds  Mr. 
Withers,  in  dismay ;  for  Mrs.  Sorcl,  passing  one 
arm  around  Alice,  herself  totters  as  she  stands, 
while  Alice  rallies  all  her  soul  to  her  aid,  and 
composes  herself  by  desperate  struggle. 

"By  George  I"  The  exclamation  bursts  en- 
tirely of  itself  from  Mr.  Withers's  lips.  "He 
isn't  killed,  yon  know,  on  that  account.  I  have 
been  shot  myself  twice.  I  dare  say  you  have 
heard  the  circumstances,  in  connection,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  with  cards.  There  is  hardly  a 
man  in  all  my  acquaintance — in  a  certain  circle, 
of  course — but  has  been  shot  at  some  time  dur- 
ing his  life,  badly  cut  at  least.  But  it  is  a  won- 
der in  this  case.  Peel  or  Wright,  whichever 
one  of  the  two  it  was,  evidently  aimed  at  a  coat- 
biitton  on  the  left  side ;  button  shattered,  by 
George! — excuse  me — to  shivers^  only  grazed 
his  side,  you  see.  His  hoi"se  must  have  started 
at  the  shot,  or  his  coat  have  hung  off  from  his 
body,  but  it  was  enough  to  knock  him  off.  He 
has  bled,  too,  badly.     You  observe — " 

Alice  can  now  look  steadily  at  their  visitor. 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


219 


She  has  often  seen  him  before,  knows  his  general 
character  as  a  t^ood-iiatureil  Imt  dissiiiatcil  man  ; 
generally  esteeineil,  sonieliow,  in  sjiite  of  liis  wild 
courees.  Mr.  Withers  has  a  frank,  lioncst  face, 
n  little  too  lii{;lily  colored,  but  he  glows  i)cforc 
Alice  now,  beautiful  as  Aj)olIo — Bacchus  rather. 

"  In  one  moment,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Withers," 
she  says,  and  glides  ([nietly  into  her  mother's 
room.  Is  detained  there  for  several  niiiuUes.  "  I 
hoped  my  motlicr  was  sleeping,"  she  says,  "but 
I  found  her  awake.  She  begs  that  you  will  please 
come  into  her  room,  she  is  anxiuus  to  hear." 

Excessively  awkward  does  Mr.  Withers  feel 
as  he  takes  a  scat  in  the  sick  chamber.  He  is 
startled  at  the  a]>|)earaneeof  Mrs.  Bowles,  whom 
he  has  not  seen  before  for  a  long  time.  It  re- 
minds him  of  his  mother,  of  promises  made  by 
him  to  just  such  a  jiale  invalid  in  just  such  a 
darkened  chamber;  promises  made  with  passion- 
ate wcepiuj.',  but,  alas  I  how  ]ioorly  kept.  Mrs. 
Sorel  has  told  him  in  a  wbisjier  of  the  death  of 
Rutledge  Bowles.  Very  quiet  is  Mr.  Withers 
in  his  manner,  having  vague  ideas,  in  addition 
to  all  else,  that  those  present  have  deeper  inter- 
est in  Mr.  Arthur  than  he  imagined  when  he 
first  came. 

"You  see,  ladies,"  he  says,  "I  was  returning 
about  noon  to-day  from  Colonel  Juggins's — been 
out  to  buy  corn  for  my  bays — in  my  ambulance. 
About  a  mile  this  side  of  Mr.  Wright's  I  saw 
some  one  lying  in  the  road — Mr.  Arthur.  He 
was  waving  his  Iiand  to  me  to  make  haste  as  far 
as  I  could  see  him.  'For  Heaven's  sake  make 
haste,  Mr.  Withers!'  he  said,  'haste,  haste  !'  I 
supposed  he  was  anxious  to  get  to  a  doctor,  and 
placed  him,  as  fast  as  I  could,  in  the  ambulance. 
'Now  drive  for  Mr.  Wright's  as  hard  as  you  can,' 
he  says;  'never  mind  me.  I  am  weak  from 
loss  of  blood,  but  I  can  sec  a  physician  afterward. 
Fast,  Mr.  Withers,  fast,  fast!'  he  kept  saying, 
which  was  unnecessary,  for  my  bays  were  young ; 
they  always  go  when  I  am  behind  them,  very 
fast  indeed.  I  don't  perfectlj'  understand  the 
thing,"  remarks  Mr.  Withers,  pausing  for  a 
while,  "  but  I  will  tell  it  all  to  you  as  it  haj)pened. 
As  we  drove  along  he  would  not  say  one  word 
how  he  was  wounded,  only  this :  'The  instant  we 
get  to  Mr.  Wright's  house,'  he  said,  'Mr.  With- 
ers, leave  the  ambulance  with  me,  run  in  and 
tell  Mr.  Wright  as  he  loves  his  daugliter  to  come 
out  instantly,  instantly  I  and  see  me  one  mo- 
ment. You  will  find  Dr.  Peel  there ;  don't  mind 
him,  any  tiling  he  says  or  does.  You  are  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  Mr.  Witiiers,  and  a  brave  man, 
do  as  I  tell  you  as  you  ever  loved  mother  or  sis- 
ter,' he  said;   'excuse  my  repeating  it.' 

"  '  Well,  but  what  the  mischief?'  I  began.  '  I 
can  not  explain  at  all,'  he  says,  'can  not,  can 
not.  Only  do  a*  I  say,  and  that  quick,  for  God's 
sake.' 

"  '  But  yon  may  be  in,  by  George !  dying  need 
of  a  doctor,'  I  began.     '  On  !  on  !'  he  only  said  ; 


'it's  ten  thousand  times  more  important  for  me 
to  get  there  in  time  than  for  me  to  live!' 

"  By  that  time  we  were  at  Wright's  gate. 
There  was  a  carriage  before  it.  I  began  to  sus- 
l)ect  the  thing.  I  dashed  in  and,  by  George! 
yes!  Tiiere  in  the  parlor  they  were!  They 
must  have  gone  in  but  that  moment.  J)r.  I'ecl 
was  on  the  floor,  the  most  si)leiulid-]o<ikiiig  bride- 
groom 1  ever  saw — broadcloth,  rullled  shirt,  gold 
chains,  white  satin  vest,  kid  gloves,  perfumes — iu 
my  life,  big  and  magnificent  as  an  cnijicror, 
handsomest  fellow  I  ever  came  up  with.  By  him 
was  his  bride.  Miss  Anne  Wright,  in  a  traveling 
dress.     You  know  her,  ladies  ;  the  least  little  bit 

I  of  a  lady,  sweet  and  beautiful  as  a  lily.  Tarson 
Barker  had  just  begim  when  I  dashed  in.  There 
was  a  tremendous  to  do,  by  George !"  added  Mr. 
Withers,  with  excitement ;  "  it  was  all  iu  a  min- 
ute ;  I  saw  the  eoujde  standing  there  so  beauti- 
ful and  bapi\v,  saw  Peel  turn  jiositively  blue, 
knocked  I'arson  Barker  fiat  over  in  my  hurry. 

I  I  do  not  know  how  I  managed  it,  but  I  had  Mr. 

j  Wright  out  at  the  ambulance  before  he  know  it. 
I  was  holding  him  there  over  Mr.  Artiiur  lying 
pale  as  death  in  the  bottom  of  the  ambulance, 
liis  head  on  a  cusliion,  when  he  seizes  ui>on  Mr. 
Wright's  hand  like  a  vice  and  waves  me  oft',  this 
way,  with  tlie  other,  serious  as  death. 

"Wright  was  bewildered.  Mr.  Arthur  drew 
him  down  and  said  a  few  quick  words.  Wright 
seemed  actually  frozen  to  the  ground.  I  could 
see  Mr.  Artluir  draw  liim  down  again  and  say 
something  as  rapidly  and  earnestly  as  a  man 
could.  Then  he  came  tearing  back  past  me, 
with  tlie  livid  face  of  a  devil.  I  never  saw  sueli 
a  face  as  that  before,"  remarked  the  speaker, 
with  a  shudder,  "I  never  want  to  again.  But 
Mr.  Artliur  beckoned  me  to  get  in.  I  did  so. 
'  Now  for  a  doctor  as  soon  as  we  can,  Mr.  With- 
ers, if  you  please,'  he  said  ;<^nd  then  he  added, 
'I  couldn't  helj)  it — he  would  have — God  help 
him — what  comes  of  it!'  something  like  it,  and 
fainted  dead  away.  I  put  it  to  them  b.ays  I 
rather  think,  left  him  just  "getting  out  of  his 
swoon  on  his  bed  at  your  house,  Mrs.  Sorel, 
came  on  for  Dr.  "Warner,  and  that,"  adds  Mr. 
Withers,  passing  his  hand  through  his  hair,  "is 
all  I  know  about  it." 

Without  saying  a  word,  Alice  brought  Mrs. 
Sorel  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  aided  her  to  i)ut 
them  on,  though  with  trembling  hands.  "  I  will 
take  good  care  of  mamma,"  she  says,  with  a 
color  in  her  face,  a  light  in  her  eye,  a  tone  in 
her  voice  such  as  sheds  a  new  light  upon  Mr. 
Withers's  mind. 

First,  indulging,  as  he  eyes  her,  in  a  shrill 
whistle,  strictly  internal  and  inaudible,  he  re- 
marks to  him.self :  "But  I  don't  see  myself  what 
business  a  jircachcr  lias  with  as  ])retty,  by  George ! 
as  splendid  a  girl  as  that.  However,  Arthur's  a 
trump  if  he  is  a  parson  !"  A  little  discontented, 
though. 


220 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


"  I  am  sure  Mr.  Withers  will  be  kind  enough 
to  drive  you  home,"  says  Alice,  with  beautiful 
eyes  upon  Mr.  Withers. 

"Oh,  certainly,  witli  pleasure.  Ambulance 
.standing  over  at  Dr.  Warner's  gate,"  replies  Mr. 
Withers,  promptly.  But  he  lingers,  with  his 
hand  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  upon  which  he 
has  been  seated.  "There  is  one  thing — I  know 
nothing,  you  observe — I  hope  you  ^rill  pardon 
my  attending  to  such  a  matter.  The  fact  is," 
says  Mr.  Withers  at  last,  as  by  a  desperate  effort, 
"  No  human  being  ever  hears  about  this  matter 
from  my  lips.  You  ladies,  I  am  sure,  will  never 
allude  to  it  to  a  soul.  Mr.  Arthur  has  fixed  it 
so  the  very  bride,  poor,  poor  thing  !  will  never 
know  the  truth  if  hor  father  only  manages  right. 
Mind,  ladies,  llr.  Arthur  has  never  whispered  a 
syllable  to  me,  by  George !  he  has  acted  with 
the  coolness  as  well  as  pluck  of  a  Trojan,  hasn't 
he?  But  I  am  satisfied,  patting  every  thing 
together,  perfectly  satisfied  that  man  Peel,  Dr. 
Peel  he  was  called,  was,  by  George! — excuse 
me,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  believe  it — was, 
after  all,  a — "  The  word  sticks  in  Mr.  With- 
ers's  throat.  "  I  know  the  man  that  whispers  it 
will  be  killed  by  Wright,  as  sure  as  I  am  stand- 
ing here.  But  I  am  satisfied,  by  George  ! — ex- 
cuse me — I  knotc  it  now,  it  is  the  only  thing  that 
can  explain  it  at  all.  Peel  was  a  negro,  a  mu- 
latto, I  feel  certain  of  it.  Or  loas,  I  should  say. 
If  he  is  a  living  man  this  moment  I  am  mis- 
taken. At  your  service  now,  Madam."  And 
Mr.  Withers  starts  for  the  door,  stands  hesita- 
ting there  a  moment,  and  returns  again. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  certain  to  excuse  me, 
ladies,  for  mentioning  such  a  matter  before  yon 
— by  far  the  most  horrible  thing  I  ever  knew 
in,  by  George !  inij  life.  No  other  human  beings 
besides  yourselves  will  ever  have  a  whisper  of  it 
from  me.  Fact  is, "^continues  Mr.  Withers,  with 
a  furtive  glance  at  Alice,  "I  thought  there  were 
those  here  to  whom  all  I  did  know  about  Mr. 
Arthur  was  solemnly  due.  Only,  mind,  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  certain,  that  about  Peel  not  posi- 
tively, yon  know.  Feel  morally  satisfied  myself, 
putting  all  things  together,  but  couldn't  under- 
take to  swear  it,  by  George !  Ah,  excuse  me. 
Good-evening!" 

"When  he  come  rushin'  out  ob  de  back- 
door," the  very  black  Parson  Orange,  a  sleek, 
rotund,  exceedingly  smooth-spoken  and  utterly 
unprincipled  negro  man,  is  saying,  at  that  very 
moment,  to  Colonel  Juggins's  Jem,  in  the  lat- 
ter's  cabin,  "I  thought  de  man  was  goin'  to 
turn  white,  he  was  so  pale!  Dressed  up!" — 
and  Orange  can  only  express  the  degree  thereof 
by  an  exclamation  often  used  by  him  in  public 
]irayer,  and  only  suitable  thereto.  "Oh,  yes, 
I  had  your  Massa's  blood-marc  ready ;  it  was 
my  dream  to  do  it,  as  I  told  you.  Jest  as  it  was 
in  my  dream — berry  mare,  berry  spot,  berry  man 
rushin'  out  widout  his  hat,  berry  lips  blue  as  I 


saw  in  my  dream,  Humph !  Nebber  laugh  at 
my  visions  again,  will  you ? — heh,  heh,  heh I" 
nodding  his  wise  head  over  the  memory  of  it 
with  wonder  on  wonder. 

"  Well,  what  den  ?'  Jem  breaks  in  upon  Or- 
ange's ruminations. 

"  ril  belieb  in  dreams  from  dis  day  out;  al- 
ways did.  Oh,  little  more  !  '  Is  dat  you,  Or- 
ange ?'  says  he.  '  All  right' — jumps  on  dat  marc 
and  is  gone.  Jest  like  in  a  dream.  Humph  I 
I  don't  know  but  it  all  u-as  a  dream.  Ef  only 
your  Massa  can  look  at  it  in  dat  light  'boat  his 
blood-mare,"  adds  Orange,  with  a  grin  at  his 
duller  confederate.  "Now  see  how  much  bright- 
er I  am  dan  you'd  been,  Jem.  You  would  a  hur- 
ried oft'.  I  didn't.  No,  Sir.  Sot  down  flat  on 
de  ground ;  took  off  one  shoe,  and  broke  de 
string."     With  another  grin. 

"What  dat  for?"  asks  Jem,  with  respect. 

"Listen,  nigger:  'fore  you  could  count  one 
hundred,  Mr.  Wright  he  come  tearing  out  after 
him,  de  white  heat  ob  hell  in  his  eyes,  revolver 
cocked  in  his  hands.  Come  upon  me,  happen- 
in'  dere  fixin  my  shoes.  '  Which  way  ?'  dat  was 
all  he  said.  'Which  way?'  ^lan  all  dressed 
up,  Massa?  I  asked.  'Which  way?"  dat  is  all 
he  said,  his  pistol  touchin'  my  nose,  finger  on  de 
trigger,  all  de  dcbbils  in  hell  in  his  face.  Dat 
way,  Massa,  dat  way,  I  says,  in  a  huny,  pint- 
ing  dimetrically  de  wrong  road.  'Tell  Jack  to 
follow  me  on  Roan,'  he  says,  and  he  is  gone — 
exactly  as  in  de  dream." 

"An'  you  told  Jack,"  asks  Jem,  eagerly, 

"Yes,  Sar,  de  fardcr  an'  dc  faster  he  trabbel 
on  dat  road  de  better.  Yes  ;  I  went  on  de  place 
an'  told  Jack.  Bat  wasn't  dere  a  muss  in  de 
house?  Jack  told  me  'bout  it  while  he  was 
saddlin'  Roan.  Peel  was  on  de  floor  to  be  mar- 
ried—  actu'ly  to  be  married,  nigger,  to  Miss 
Anne.  Yah !  Ambulance  drove  up  to  de  door ; 
man  jumped  out,  run  in,  carried  de  father  out  to 
it  like  a  child.  De  instant  he  do  it.  Peel  took  out 
de  back-door,  knockin'  ober  de  niggers  crowded 
dere  to  see  de  ceremony ;  didn't  eben  stop  for 
his  hat.  Parson,  he  run  up  stairs  an'  shut  him- 
self up  ;  got  to  prayin'  up  dar.  Jack  said." 

"Miss  Anne?"  asks  Jem,  with  intensest  in- 
terest. 

"Jack  say,  when  her  father  was  hurried  out 
one  door.  Peel  run  out  ob  de  udder,  she  stood 
frightened  out  ob  her  wits.  Sudden'  her  father 
came  rushin'  back,  wild !  Then  she  rushes  for 
him,  all  in  her  bonnet  and  trabbling  clothes  an' 
hold  him  in  her  arms.  Jack  say  sTie  kept  hol- 
lerin',  '  I  knew  it,  pa,  I  knew  it ;  he  didn't  hide 
it;  he  told  me  he  was  a  Union  man.  It  was 
my  fault ;  he  wanted  me  to  let  him  off"  if  I  would. 
I  loved  him,  pa ;  don't  kill  him,  don't  kill  him !' 
windin'  herself  about  her  pa  like  a  snake,  shriek- 
ing an'  cryin' — her  pa  sayin'  nothin',  only  curs- 
in'  an'  tryin'  to  get  .iway.  '  If  you  kill  him  kill 
i  me,'  she  said.  Jack  told  me,  'I'm  a  Union  wo- 


INSIDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


221 


'llli:    LOVEKS. 


man;  I  hate  de  Souf;  I  hate  de  Confederacy; 
kill  me  too,  me  too;  I  love  the  Yankees.  I  hare 
de  Secession  !'  Jack  said  it  was  all  her  i>a  could 
do  to  break  from  her,  she  wrapijed  herself  all 
'round  him  so. 


"But  he  broke  away  at  last,  leavin'  licr  dar 
on  de  floor  in  her  bonnet  an'  things  in  a  dead 
faint,  jioor  thiuj;!  like  a  flower  struck  hy  light- 
ning. Dey  all  lulibed  her  mightily,  dcni  nij:;,rers, 
dey  was  all  cryin'  over  her,  said  it  would  kill 


222 


I^'SIDE.— A  CHllON'ICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


her  dead.     I  'member,"  added  Orange,  reflect-  I  ing  to  understand  matters,  Lizzie.     I  nm  con- 


ivcly,  "one  djiy  'bont  two  weeks  before,  she  w.ns 
at  a  prayer-meeting  we  had  over  at  your  Massa's, 
Jem,  you  mind  it  ?  ijlie  shook  hands  with  roe  in 
de  front  porch.  'I  hope  you'll  do  dem  some 
ir  \  '  good.  Orange,'  she  said.  Yes;  an'  smiled  so 
■  I  it.  Yes,"  adds  Oranjie,  after  far- 
:'  n,  "she  was  for  certain  de  sweetest 
est  work  of  God  /ebber  see.     'Tis 

But  time  flies  verj-  fast,  even  though  it  ac- 
complishes the  greatest  events  as  it  flies.  In  the 
compass  of  two  weeks  after  .Mr.  Arthui-'s  wound- 
ing, the  Confederacy,  more  like,  now  it  has  come 
and  gone,  some  awfid  vision  of  inspired  jirophot 
than  a  reality,  has,  in  the  surrender  of  the  last 
of  its  armies  and  in  the  capture  of  its  Lucifer, 
cxjiired  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  only  a  ter- 
rible memory  henceforth  and  forever.  It  is  a 
pleasant  June  evening,  and  Mrs.  Sorcl  and  Alice 
are  seated  in  j\Ir.  Arthur's  room.  lie  is  able  to 
sit  up  now  in  an  easy-chair,  pale  from  loss  of 
blood,  but  ra])i(lly  recovering.  Her  great  af- 
fliction has  left  its  traces  upon  Mrs.  Sorel,  if  it 
were  only  in  the  fuller  peace  which  has  soft- 
ened into  a  deeper,  jiurer  quiet  tlic  lines  of  her 
mouth,  the  light  of  her  eyes.  And  Alice,  seated 
by  her  lover's  side  as  if  they  had  been  already 
long  married,  is  serene  of  countenance,  even 
though  its  paleness  is  heightened  by  the  deep 
mourning  in  which  she  is  clothed — double  mourn- 
ing— for  at  once  brother  and  mother. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Sorcl  is  saying,  while  Alice  is 
silently  sewing,  with  downcast  eyes,  "there  is 
indeed  the  hand  of  a  Father  in  it.  That  Mr. 
Withers  should  have  been  able  to  say  all  that  to 
her,  and  just  then,  how  providential  it  was! 
'  I  had  feared,  before,  Mr.  Arthur  entertained 
sentiments — was  one  of  a  class  whom  I  have 
been  trained  from  infancy  to  regard  with  horror 
unspeakable,'  she  said  to  me  when  I  went  back 
to  her  next  day.     '  I  have  given  over  endeavor- 


tent  to  leave  it  all  in  the  hands  of  Ilim  who 
doeth.  all  things  well.  I  withdraw  now  all  ob- 
jection in  regard  to  Mr.  Arthur.  Kutledge 
Bowles  is  gone.  I  once  regarded  Mr.  Arthur 
next  to  him.  Though  I  do  not,  can  not,  in  this 
life  at  least,  understand  matters,  he  must  have 
had  powerful  reason  for  the  course  he  pursued. 
Yon,  Lizzie,  and  he  and  Alice,  too,  were  calm 
and  quiet  while  I  was  feverish  ;  but  we  will  speak 
no  more  about  it,'!<he  said,  and  kept  rc|)eating — 
you  remember,  Alice  ? — even  to  the  end,  '  He 
doeth  all  things  well,  doeth  all  things  well.' 
You  ought  to  love  Alice  very  dearly,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur," adds  Mrs.  Sorel,  gravely;  "her  mother 
was  the  truest  lady  I  ever  knew  in  all  my  life." 

"God  knows  that  I  do  that  only  too  well," 
Mr.  Arthur  adds,  as  gravely,  looking  with  fond- 
est aft'ection  at  Alice;  "and,"  as  she  lifts  her 
loving  eyes  to  his,  "I  have  loved  her  from  the 
first  moment  I  saw  her  with  an  ever-increasing 
afi'ection.  I  will  not  speak  of  that,  because  no 
words  can  at  all  express  it.  My  gratitude  to 
God  for  giving  me  back  at  once  my  country  and 
you,  Alice,  is  unspeakable.  And,  of  all  the 
world,  it  is  Brother  Barker  shall  murr}-  us !  If 
I  had  been  in  his  case  I  might  have  been — 
probably  would  have  been — worse  than  he.  We 
have  both  endured,  darling,  long  and  terrible 
trial.  I  hojie  we  are  fitted  for  the  new  world 
upon  which  we  are  entering  together — a  new 
world,  Alice,  with  new  duties,  new  suflcrings, 
perhaps — who  knows  ?  But  we  are  entering 
upon  it  together.  I  ask  no  more,  love,  than 
thatl"'  Unconsciously  to  both  of  them,  their 
hands  lie  upon  the  arm  of  the  easy-chair,  clasp- 
ed in  one.  But  at  this  moment  Robby  comes 
into  the  room  soberly  as  he  can,  yet  in  greatest 
excitement. 

"  Mr.  Brooks,  oTi,  Mr.  Brooks !''  he  exclaims, 
and  holds  up  a  warning  hand — "Listen  !" 

Sure  enough.     The  distant  music  of  a  mili- 


"UOMK,  fcWELT   llU-ML!" 


IN3IDE.— A  CHRONICLE  OF  SECESSION. 


22.3 


■  uy  band.  Very  fuint,  yet  tlicy  -can  hear  it  as 
iliL-y  sit  witli  siis])eiKled  broatli.  Nearer  now 
uiul  louder.  Wliat  is  the  air?  Wait.  Still 
iiiMirer.  And  the  lover  takes  the  other  hand  in 
his.  one  there  already.  Nearer.  Tlieir  eyes 
iiieot  inquiringly.  Still  nearer  the  music  sounds 
-Tnusic  loud,  clear,  sweet  exceedingly.     Robby 


and  liis  mother  have  turned,  aro  looking  tlio 
other  way,  attentive  only  in  that  direction,  and 
the  lips,  too,  of  the  lovers  meet.  For  the  tune 
is  plain  now.  And  it  is  not  Hail  Columbia. 
Nor  the  Star-Spanglcd  llanncr.  Nor  yet  Yan- 
kee Doodle.  It  is — to  these  two  of  all  tunes  on 
earth! — Home,  Sweet  Hume. 


THE    END. 


I 

> 


